


Take Me Away

by xotragician_child



Category: Gerard Way and the Hormones, My Chemical Romance, frnkiero andthe cellabration
Genre: Altered Mental States, Blood and Gore, Cage Fights, Cannibalism, F/M, Fights, Fire, Gay Sex, Heterosexual Sex, Homosexuality, Human Experimentation, M/M, Mass Murder, Mental Institutions, Molestation, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Murder, Past Rape/Non-con, Prison, Sexual Confusion, Sexuality Crisis, Smut, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 42,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10936995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xotragician_child/pseuds/xotragician_child
Summary: A gory, creepy, not so normal frerard filled with blood, guts, sex and anger..And its probably the best thing I've yet to write.. Don't judge a book by its description, though, I tend to leave them as vague as possible.





	1. Prologue- All Hallow's Eve, Remembered

Prologue

The switchboard room of the Belleville precinct had been busy all night. It was Halloween and the Belleville Police Department were rampant and had been on their feet all night. Halloween was one of the most hated days for anyone who worked for the law, anyone who served under a badge.

This Halloween was no different, with its underage parties, drinking and constant pranksters, the switchboard phones were ringing wildly. The room was only dimly lit, who women sat in front of a huge set of computer monitors, typing away and talking to the citizens on the other end of their headsets.

"Belleville Police Department, how can we help you?" the one woman answered tiredly, clicking away on the other keyboard. She waited for a minute, but there was an eerie silence, "Hello?"

The silence continued and the woman eventually hung up, annoyed by another one of Belleville's drunk teenagers phoning in on a dare.

The phone rang again and she answered, "Belleville Police Department, how can we help you?" she repeated for the thousandth time that day, the sentence falling from her lips loosely. There was a continued air of stillness on the other end of the line and she let out a sigh, pressing the balls of her hands into her eyes and rubbing until blue dots filled her vision, "Is anyone there?"

The poor woman was about to hang up again when she heard a hollow, ragged breath at the end of the line. The sound made her freeze, the hair on her arms stood up on end and she swallowed hard.

"Excuse me, is anyone there?" she asked, and the breathing continued, she could hear it was a man, the whispered, hushed breathing was slow, raspy and spine-tingling.

"Are you able to-" she began but what cut off.

"I killed them.." he trailed off, "I killed all of them.."

The voice on the other end of the line sounded dead, monotone and lifeless as though it were a zombie. At first the operator thought it was a prank, pursing her lips, she calmingly opened a tab on the computer and began typing away with her long, red nails.

"Sir? Sir, who are you? What happened?" she asked, and was met with silence. She heard something crunch over the other end of the line and it made her stomach twist uncomfortably. She swallowed again and waited for whoever was on the other end of the line to start cackling drunkenly and hung up, but it didn't happen.

"They begged me.." he gasped in another breath, and he didn't seem to be out of breath, he didn't seem to be stunned or shocked, but he seemed to be moving around, pacing almost calmly, stalling and taking his time, "I couldn't say no.. The three little birdies crushed and momma birdie couldn't fly away.. Not when master clips her wings.." the operator heard another sickening crush and a muffled scream,

"Oh.. I didn't tell you," he began, "I'm not done yet.." the scream of a woman grew louder and the operator flew into a terrified panic, trying to remain calm as she began typing away furiously on her keyboard.

There was a deafening crack and a loud heavy thump and he operator let out a soft whimper before the man continued, as if not even hearing her, "I just.. Killed them all.. One by one.. Snapped the little birdies like twigs.. Tweet tweet," he took in a hoarse breath, "Oh it was so easy, they were so little.. I killed her.. I killed them all.." he took in a raspy breath, "It was like I was playing god and they were my ants.. I took the light from their eyes, I watched the life drain, the blood spill on the floor.. I ran my hands through it.. It was so dark.. Still warm.. I snapped the little birdies.."

The woman on the operating phone repressed a shudder and continued, "Sir..? Sir where is your address? What's your name?"

"You'll have to find me.. I know you will.." he let out another, slow, manic breath it was almost like a laugh, "Good...bye.."

And the line went dead.


	2. Chapter 1- The Unimaginable Imagined

Chapter 1

1 hour earlier

Frank pulled up in the driveway outside his house, cutting the engine with a heavy sigh. He looked up at his house, the Halloween decorations littered the front of the building and the yard. He loved Halloween, mainly because it was also the day that he had been born on.

Yes, it was his birthday and yes, it was pretty damn cool. But he was tired, he was exhausted actually, and all he wanted to do was kiss his children good night and crawl into bed with his wife.

But of course that wasn't the case.

It was Halloween.

He promised to take his kids out trick-or-treating after dinner.

He stared up at the house for another minute before he opened the door and climbed out. He pulled his briefcase out from the back seat and locked the car. He made his way up the crunchy gravel path, hearing the gravel cry out under his feet. He opened the front door and walked in slowly, biting his lip when he heard silence.

He set his briefcase down at the door and stepped further into the house, closing the door with one hand behind him. He heard it click shut and he stepped forward, loosening his tie as he went.

"Jamia?" he called out into the eerily silent house, "Girls? I'm home. Where are you guys?"

There was nothing, the house was silent, and it was beginning to get dark, the sun had only just begun to set, and it seemed that no lights had been left on.

It made Frank's stomach churn uneasily.

Maybe they had gone out and had forgotten to tell him?

Maybe he forgot that Jamia had in fact told him that she had gone out and taken the kids.

Frank pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his texts, but he saw nothing mentioning her being out. He frowned and pocketed his phone, rolling up his sleeves one by one as he walked, turning on the light in the front hallway.

"Jamia? Baby, you guys home?" he called out once he got deeper into the house. Again, no reply.

He untucked his shirt, peering into the kitchen, but it was desolate. Not even a dish had been taken out for food, or a drinking glass or a mug; everything seemed completely clean, immaculate even. He bit his lip again and slowly wandered passed the dining room and into the living room.

It was dark. Pitch dark.

He scrambled around blindly for light switch and when he found it, he flicked it up, flipping the lights on.

"Surprise!" everyone suddenly yelled, jumping out from behind the sofa. Frank let out a shriek and jumped about a foot in the air.

He turned to look at his wife and kids, who were peeking at him from behind the sofa, all of them had birthday hats on, except for his youngest child, his only son Miles, who was holding onto his birthday hat with chubby fingers, nibbling the end of it.

His heart was racing about a mile a minute in his chest as his two daughters, Cherry and Lily, ran out from behind the sofa and engulfed their father's legs in a tight hug from both sides. Jamia wandered around, balancing her son on her hip, and a widened smile on her lips.

"Give you a fright?" she asked, and Frank gave her a pursed-lipped frown, indicating the answer. She merely smiled.

"Daddy! Daddy look!" Cherry yelled, looking up at Frank.

"No, daddy, look at me!" Lily argued, both of them whining.

"We're princesses!" they yelled in unison and Frank smiled warmly.

"You both look so pretty..." he bent down and scooped them into a hug, kissing the sides of each of their heads before they ran off in their elaborate pink and purple gowns. Jamia stood nearby, patiently waiting for her turn for affection.

Frank waltzed over and took Miles from his wife, holding him up and having a look at the lion onesie he had been dressed in and the simple whiskers that seemed to be drawn on his pudgy cheeks in Jamia's eyeliner.

"And how about you, champ? You're a big, bad lion, huh?" Frank asked and Miles giggled loudly.

"Rawr!" he yelled out, his hands clenching and unclenching menacingly as Frank feigned horror.

"Oh no," he put Miles down on the ground and watched him take a wobbly step forward, the fur-trimmed hood of his onesie falling down from his head, and he looked up at his daddy, cackling.

"Rawr!"

"Help!" he yelled hiding behind Jamia, "There's a lion in the house!"

"Rawr! Rawr! Daddy I eat you!" Miles yelled, running with his bandy legs around Jamia as Frank collapsed on the floor, playing dead rather dramatically with his tongue sticking out and his eyes wide open.

Miles cackled happily and began to crawl on top of his father's stomach, his feet slipping as he tried to hike his way up. Frank lifted a hand and gave his son a helpful push.

Miles scowled, "No! Dead daddy!" he poked Frank's chest and Frank's head lolled to the side, his tongue back out. His leg gave a slight spasm just for effect and he looked up at Jamia and winked at her. Miles managed to roll himself on top of his dad, almost rolling off the other side before he managed to keep himself up, perching himself on top of Frank's stomach and sitting down. He picked up Frank's tie and began gnawing on the end happily as Frank eyed him, trying to lay as still as possible as Jamia looked on, surveying the scene.

"Oh no, baby look!" Jamia gasped and Miles looked at her, his mouth hanging open and the tie falling back down, "Daddy's turned into a zombie!"

"No!" Miles squealed unhappily as Frank let out a groan and looked down at him with wide eyes, Miles' bottom lip began to tremble and he slid off of his dad, but not before frank wrapped an arm around his legs and picked him up off the floor. Miles squealed as he was hoisted from the ground and turned over. Frank lay on the ground, holding his son up above his head and flying him around like a plane, he even began making the noises.

"No!" Miles began to pout in between his squeals, "Lion! No plane! Rawr!"

"I'm gonna eat your brains!" Frank yelled and Miles squealed and began to kick in the air.

"Mommy! Mommy help!"

Jamia scooped Miles up from her husband's grasp and Frank looked up, pouting, "Aww no."

Miles pulled his tongue out, snuggling up to his mother's neck as he began gnawing on the sleeve of his onesie. Frank scrambled up off of the carpet and slowly wandered over to Miles, who was now looking back with wide eyes.

"Frank, don't scare him." Jamia crooned softly and Frank looked at her before planting a sloppy kiss to Miles' cheek.

Miles gurgled unhappily and wiped it off and hid his face in Jamia's neck. Frank looked down at his wife and smiled, a soft warmth began to unravel in his stomach.

"Hi baby.." he whispered softly as he lay his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"We missed you today.." she replied, a small smile on her lips.

Frank bit his lip, "I know.. I didn't want to work today, but we had a meeting this morning and it was important.. Not to mention its pay day tomorrow and everyone at the bank is stressing to get everything done on time and.." Frank trailed off with a sigh and he looked up from his feet and into his wife's darkened brown eyes, "I missed you so much."

Jamia smiled and set her son down on the ground and he stood up slowly, wobbling, before he went off in search of his older sisters. Jamia smiled softly before looking up at Frank, a soft blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"You look real cute like this.." Frank whispered, his fingers gently tracing the V-neck of her shirt. She smiled and wrapped her arms around Frank's waist.

"I decided rather than dressing up in a costume, I'll be myself.. I figured the housewife of a handsome, tattooed banker is better than a zombie.."

"Well I'm just glad none of your limbs are falling off and I don't have to worry about any of that later.." he bit his lip, smirking slightly.

"Oh, and why later?"

"Because later I'd rather make love to my wife, who is married to a handsome, tattooed banker instead of a zombie.." Frank smiled slightly before his lips were on Jamia's in a tender kiss, holding her close, "Although zombies are pretty cool.." he breathed before kissing her again, feeling her smile as she pulled him closer.

"Ew! Daddy that's gross!" Frank heard Cherry gripe from the living room entry way not a minute later and he let out a sigh and pulled away, looking at his daughter.

"Yeah, mommy why?" Lily whined, appearing from behind her sister.

"Because we can.." Frank answered simply, smiling at his daughters, "And you don't complain when I give you kisses before bed.." he folded his arms and they were silent.

He felt Jamia's fingers entwine in his and he looked back at her, "I'll get dinner dished up and you find your son and get him cleaned up, he's bound to be eating something he shouldn't.."

Frank chortled softly and wandered out of the living room and down the next hallway. He peered into Cherry and Lily's shared bedroom and it was empty, rather messy, but empty, their princess bunk beds covered I clothes, both real and dress up. He walked past the closed bathroom door and looked into Miles' nursery, but again it was empty no sign of Simba anywhere.

He spied his and Jamia's bedroom door open a crack and he raised an eyebrow and wandered over, opening the door slowly.

"Miles? Buddy, you in here?" Frank called out into the bedroom, switching the light on. He gazed around the room when he heard a soft thump from under their bed.

A small smirk played at Frank's lips and he wandered over to the bed, "I wonder where Miles went.. I don't see him anywhere..."

Frank bent down slowly on his side of the bed, the bed curtain hanging down to the floor. He suddenly brought it up, "Boo!"

But it was empty except for an old pair of trainers. Frank frowned, scratching his head. He could have sworn he heard something under there. He sat up on his knees when he noticed something run passed him and he turned, grabbing Miles who was trying to make a beeline for the door, squealing lie a maniac.

"I got you!" Frank crooned, pretending to bite Miles' neck with his teeth, "I got you, buddy! I got you.."

"No!" Miles wriggled as Frank stood up. Flipping him over his shoulder and carrying almost upside down as he traipsed down the hallway.

"Da-aa-addy!" Miles whined, his voice jumping every time Frank took a step. Frank smiled as he walked into the living room.

Jamia looked up from setting a large bowl down on the table, and pursed her lips, "Frank, be careful.."

"He's fine.." Frank pulled Miles off of his shoulder and held him up, kissing his nose, before he set the grouchy toddler in his high chair. Frank took his seat at the head of the table and looked to his right where both of his daughters sat side by side, smiling happily at him. He smiled back, slightly uneasy as they didn't stop smiling.

"Can I help you both with something?" he finally asked, his cheeks cramping slightly as he leaned forward, resting his hand on his chin.

Lily opened her mouth to talk but earned a whack from her sister, and they just looked at him, shaking their heads.

"A-lrighty then.." he frowned and looked up just as Jamia took her seat on his left between Miles' high chair, "What's for dinner?"

"Well.. Since it's your birthday and its really special, we're doing things differently.." Jamia smiled and he saw Cherry and Lily rise slightly in their seats.

"How so?"

"Hang on.." Jamia got up again and disappeared into the kitchen, Frank watching her with definite intrigue.

The door swung open and Jamia appeared with a cake in her hands, singing happily, "Haaappy Biiirthdaay to you.." she began and Cherry and Lily chimed in, with Miles staring at the cake with wide eyes.

The sound of their voices began to get slightly hazy as Frank stared at the cake, the flickering flames that sat atop the candles held onto his attention and wouldn't let go. He felt heat rising in his stomach and his body began to tremble, his eyes never wavering from the flames.

He couldn't hear any of them anymore, it was white noise. The cake was set down in front of him and Jamia bent down beside him, smiling widely, but Frank could feel his brain switching off, every single thought flew out of the window. His head snapped up to look at his wife, before everything went black

~

The loud whirring scream of sirens managed to rouse Frank his eyes flickered open just as he heard a loud bang and footsteps flooding through the house. He was in darkness with no idea where he actually was.

He scrambled out from under the dining room table and slid, falling flat on his back. He heard a soft squelch as he landed and something warm and wet began to soak through his shirt. His heart began to race and he opened his eyes slowly.

He let out a scream, a blood-curdling scream of absolute horror.

He stared back into the wide, lifeless eyes of his wife as she lay dead on the floor, blood pooling out of her mouth.

Frank could hear voices shouting and all too quickly he was hoisted up onto his feet. He was fighting, screaming, with hot tears running down his face. The entire dining room was covered in scarlet, crimson red.

Frank tried to wretch himself from the grip of the police officers behind him, but they were too strong. He was staring down at Jamia, her body mangled, her throat slit and multiple stab wounds littered her back. Frank realised, with a sudden old numbness, that it had been her blood that he had slipped in, a growing pool surrounding her.

He looked around him frantically, calling out for his children, but it was too late. His daughters lay on the ground, looking as though they had suffered the same fate as their mother.

The dining room lay in a shambles, yes, the dining room table had been over turned and lay in the far corner, the chairs lay smashed near his daughters, pieces of wood still lay upon their bodies, as though the chairs had been thrown at them, or worse. The dining room floor was covered in blood, pooling and spattered almost everywhere. Pieces of white china lay in shatters around the floor as well as the food, from salad to pasta. The birthday cake had been thrown against the wall, the small plate lay on the ground beneath it. The beige walls looked as though they had once been a part of a horror movie set. Fresh blood rolled down to the skirting boards, smattering with force, even the ceiling had suffered a similar fate. The smell was enough to suffocate.

To Frank, there was only one missing, and his stomach fell into his blood-stained shoes as he was drenched with ice cold fear.

"Miles! Miles where are you!" Frank screamed, his voice cracking at the intense volume. He spied a small brown lump beside the over turned dining room table, it wasn't bloodied, but he recognised the tail that had been sewn onto the onesie.

With some miraculous feat of strength, Frank managed to pull himself from the officers' grip and he lunged himself, vaulting over the table, landing on the ground. He scooped up the small bundle, turning it over.

The toddler's form hung limply, his eyes closed peacefully, but no blood ran from his body. His head lolled awkwardly and Frank let out a low sob, hugging the tiny child to his chest.

"Get up!" Someone yelled in Frank's direction, but it only made him sob harder. A hand slid under his elbow and pulled him up to his feet.

"Give me the child." One of the officers held out his hands, but Frank didn't let go, "Let him go, son."

Frank looked down at Miles and he sniffed, before handing his son over to the officer.

"Frank Iero, you're under arrest for the brutal murder of your wife and children." The other officer grabbed Frank's wrists, pulling the behind his back and slapping a pair of cuffs around them.

Frank looked up, "Wh- No! Are you fucked in the head! How dare you!" he yelled, furious.

"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you do not have one, one will be provided to you," the officer drawled on as Frank was forcibly pulled from the dining room. He screamed, kicking menacingly as he tried to get away, not even listening as they read him his rights.

His clothes were stained and splattered with blood, and it wasn't even dry yet, they stuck to his skin. The smell made him want to throw up and sob at the same time, the metallic tint hurt his nostrils.

"It wasn't me! I didn't do this! Let me go!" Frank yelled angrily as he was pulled out of the house and out into the front yard where cop cars lined the street, officers unrolling crime scene tape round the house as a growing crowd formed, watching Frank being forcibly hauled from his house.

He was fucking furious. He hadn't done a damn thing. He had been celebrating his god damn birthday and then... and then nothing. He couldn't remember a god damn thing.

"Let me go! I didn't do this!" he screamed, aiming a kick at the nearby officer, but he missed, kicking up some of the gravel of the path he was being led down.

"Mr Iero, stop resisting, you're making it worse." The officer stated harshly and Frank let out a sob and tried once again to try and run back to the house. The images of his family flashed in front of his eyes, making his stomach roil. He swooned lightly and they stopped.

He felt his mouth fill with saliva and his stomach gave a terrible lurch. He threw up all over the grass beside him, the officer stepping aside in disgust as Frank threw up a second time, the yellow bile spewing from his nose and his mouth, burning the back of his throat. He closed his eyes whimpering softly, as he was hauled up again. Hot, morbid tears ran down his cheeks.

He looked up as he was stood in front of the police car and rage filled him again, "I didn't do it!"

"You did.." the officer said as he opened the back door of the squad car.

Frank was suddenly and rather roughly pushed into the car and he let out a grunt as he fell over, "No I didn't!"

"You did.." he pushed Frank in again as he tried to climb out of the car forcefully, "We know you did.."

"How?" Frank cried, finally giving up, body aching.

"You already confessed." The officer said simply and walked back towards the house.


	3. Chapter 2- Birthday Candles are Dangerous, Chief

Chapter 2

Frank sat it the interrogation room almost 3 hours later. He was exhausted and quite honestly, he had no reason to even be alive. Everything he had was gone, and it was his fault, why didn't he remember anything? He had had multiple police officers coming in and out of the room, trying to coax a confession out of him, which he didn't understand because apparently he had already confessed whilst he was murdering his wife, phoning in to the police department and telling them that he had slaughtered them all.

Even his daughters.

Even Miles.

The images of his tiny baby still pulled at his heart, his chest paining miserably as he remembered his sons peaceful face. He looked so much like he were asleep. Frank didn't even know how he had died, but he was just glad that the poor little soul, his only son, hadn't received the brutality that the rest had.

Don't get him wrong, Frank loved his wife unconditionally. She was literally the only person he had left in his life. And his daughters. Frank felt tears pricking his eyes when he thought about his precious little girls.

How could they have thought he had done this.

He could never even spank his children let alone..

The thought made him blanch, his body curling instinctively as he let out a low cry.

Frank didn't believe them, any of the vile police officers intent on framing him for what he hadn't done. But there he sat, handcuffed to a steel table that had been bolted to the floor. He stared down at his hands, still stained with blood all the way up to his elbows, but it was dried already, cracking over his olive skin, making him look like a horrendous monster.

As many of the police officers came in, some demanding answers, and some trying their best to coax, Frank remained resolute. He genuinely knew nothing about what happened and he could see that every single officer out there was getting weary, angry and frustrated with him.

And the feeling was mutual.

But Frank's request remained the same, all he wanted to do was hear this so called confession of his, but none of them listened to his pleas. He sat there, his body completely drained, his mind empty, filled with a distinct numbness that was hard to shake off, not that he wanted to, he embraced it, he had no need to try and fight it anymore.

He had no need to fight.

He had already lost.

"Mr. Iero." Frank heard the slight hint of a southern drawl and he hid his distaste for the south by biting on his lip. He looked up to see a large, bulky man walking in, "I am Deputy Commander in Chief, Captain Haughton."

"Well done." Frank whispered haughtily and he heard the Captain inhale coldly, their relationship obviously not of the friendly kind, as of now.

"Look here, you sick son of a bitch, I aint here to play your lil' games.. I know you did it, you confessed.." The Captain leaned forward, sneering at Frank.

"I don't fucking remember anything, okay?" Frank let out an exasperated sigh, clenching and unclenching his fists slightly, the cold metal biting his wrists, but he managed to grit his teeth and carry on.

"Don't you lie to me, boy.." The Captain eyed Frank, but Frank was so over everything already, he genuinely didn't care, he just wished it was all over, and he was just put where he needed to be for now.

"I'm not lying.." Frank protested, looking the Captain straight in the eye.

"Alright then.." The Captain sat down in the steel chair across from Frank at the table, "Why don't we have ourselves a little chat?"

"Why should I tell you anything..?" Frank pursed his lips, and if he could fold his arms, he would have.

"Because if you do, I'll let you hear the tape.." the Captain obviously knew Frank had been so eager to hear this so called confession, and Frank was seriously considering it, there was no harm in letting anything slip, especially considering he knew absolutely nothing.

"Tell me a bit about yourself.." the Captain coaxed and Frank sighed, tilting his head back before he looked at the old man in front of him, determined to make this at least slightly entertaining.

"My name is Dean Winchester.." Frank began, "I'm an Aquarius.. I like sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky women.. And I did not kill anyone."

The Captain sat there and stared at him and Frank watched with a keening satisfaction as the color rose into the old bastard's face, turning him purple. It made Frank slightly less angry, slightly less pained and he almost enjoyed watching this old fuck rage. Frank wasn't even sure the captain knew what he had just referenced, but he didn't care, he hadn't gotten the reaction he had wanted in the first place.

Captain Haughton grabbed Frank's collar and hoisted him up, the handcuffs biting into Frank's skin, making him hiss in pain as they rattled against the steel bar they had been wrapped around on the table., "Listen here, you sick freak, I don't have time for your stupid games."

"I didn't do it!"

"Yes you did!" he spat, his moustache twitching as he flared angrily and Frank just stared at him.

"Then prove it." Frank said simply and he was dropped back down into his seat.

"Fine." Haughton pulled the small recorder from his pocket and lay it down in the middle of the table as he pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter.

Frank stared at the cigarettes and pulled a slight expression of disgust, looking away.

"Problem?" Haughton asked but Frank ignored him.

"Just play the tape.

Haughton leaned forward, pressing play on the machine.

There was a soft sound of static before he heard a woman speaking,

"Belleville Police Department, how can we help you?" the woman spoke softly, her voice was tired and weary.

Frank waited, but he heard nothing except for a soft, ragged breath that made the hair on his neck stand up.

"Excuse me, is anyone there?" he heard her ask as the heavy laddened breathing continued, "Are you able to-?"

"I killed them..." Frank heard his own voice breathe out into the receiver and his eyes widened, "I killed all of them.."

It sure sounded like Frank, but at the same time, his voice sounded flat, dead, as though he were asleep or something, but he continued to listen, his leg shaking under the table.

"Sir? Sir, who are you? What happened?" the operator asked, and there was silence, the silence was heavy and mingled with fear and anticipation, he could hear something happening on the other end of the line but it was drowned out by static.

"They begged me.." Frank heard himself gasp over the recording and his chest began to feel tight. It was him, but he had no recollection of any of it. It made his entire body tremble with uncertainty, before he heard himself continue, "I couldn't say no.. The three little birdies crushed and momma birdie couldn't fly away... Not when master clips her wings.."

Frank couldn't believe he was saying these atrocities his voice sounded so lifeless, so dull and lacking in empathy. He could almost feel the chill emanating from the recording.

He heard a scream sound out form the tiny box, a muffled scream that he instantly recognized as his wife. He felt tears prick in his eyes.

"Oh I didn't tell you..." he heard himself sneer over the phone, "I'm not done yet.." it was then that he heard Jamia scream in pure agony. Frank's eyes snapped shut and he leaned as far away from the recording as humanly possible.

"Stop.." Frank couldn't breathe. He had heard more than enough. He looked up at Haughton, who was smirking rather smugly.

"Happy now?"

Frank's eyes refused to open, he refused to believe he had been the one to murder his own family. He had been set up. There was no way he would ever commit such a brutal act upon the only people who ever loved him. His wife and his kids were the only thing he had left, his last hope of a family. He didn't even have his parents. He never had parents in the first place.

They also died.

No one ever stayed with him. He was meant to be alone forever and that's just how the universe seemed to want it.

"You look surprised." The Captain drawled on and Frank felt a bitter hatred bubbling up in his stomach.

"Sorry if that's not the reaction you wanted.." Frank spat back and Haughton merely smirked.

"Any reaction is fine with me, it doesn't matter what you say or do now, you're going away for a long, long time.." Haughton was fucking with Frank, trying to get a rise out of him, and Frank knew it. Frank was tired, and he didn't want to make anything worse for himself, but his hatred bubbled under his skin.

"You want one before you're locked away in a 2 by 4 cell?" the Captain asked Frank, offering him a cigarette. Frank declined with a rather cold scowl, and the captain merely shrugged and brought the slim stick up to his lips.

He lit a match and Frank froze in his chair, watching the flickering flame with unblinking eyes. His heart seemed to quicken in pace and every depredated sense began to surge.

His brain flickered with images of fire. With images of his wife laying on the floor, screaming as Frank shattered her bones. He looked at the captain, his mind almost seemed to be shorting between reality and the past.

The images of massacre filled with him with an unnerving heat, as though engulfed by the flame.

Frank took in a deep breath and leaned forward, motioning for the Captain, who smirked, leaning forward.

"I have to share something with you captain." Frank crooned dryly.

"And what's that?"

"Birthday candles are dangerous, chief.." the last syllable was crisp and the Captain didn't even see it coming. Frank let out a scream and tore the handcuffs from the table, throwing himself forward, his mouth suddenly latching onto Haughton's face, his teeth clamping down on his flesh.

And then nothing. Frank's whole existence went black.

Frank almost came back to reality. Almost. His mind flickered back. And he was being hauled up off of the ground and onto his feet. He could hear people shouting, screaming frantically. It was a sense of déjà vu, if only the scenery had changed.

He saw the Captain laying on the ground, the wall behind him covered with blood spatters, his neck had a huge big chunk of it that Frank found lying beside him on the ground, as well as a bite out of his face. Frank could taste blood in his mouth, the metallic bite made him queasy. He looked down at his hands, the handcuffs still around his wrists, but the chain had been broken. He was suddenly thrown to the ground and he fell, winding himself as his body hit the concrete floor.

"We're losing him!" someone yelled and Frank tried to make a run for it, but he couldn't, he had suddenly felt something burning in his arm and he glanced down wildly.

There was a syringe sticking out of his skin, and a brute of an officer glaring down at him with his fingers on the plunger. Frank began to grow weary, hazy, his entire body falling out from his grasp, and then there was nothing.


	4. Chapter 3- The Credibility of a Psycho, Doubted

Chapter 3

"Mr. Iero.." Frank heard someone calling his name, "Mr. Iero?"

Frank frowned, his head was ringing, throbbing painfully and his body felt as though it weighed more than lead. Whoever was calling him, he didn't recognize at all.

Whoever it was, was a woman, Frank could definitely tell that much?

Frank's eyes fluttered slightly and he looked up, to see a concrete ceiling above him. He turned, and he realized he had been placed in a holding cell. The walls around him were a morbid grey and the floor had been carved with names and all sorts of obscenities.

Frank gazed out for the source of the voice and there he found it.

A rather attractive woman stood by his cell, her crimson lips in a soft, sympathetic smile. Her long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail that swept down her back. Her black suit was crisp, clean, and it fit her curves in a way that Frank genuinely thought would have been illegal.

He sat up slowly, and his head gave a nasty thump. He brought his hand up, massaging his temples, before he got to his feet. He walked over to the bars and eyed the woman. She seemed to not be much taller than him, only if she took her heels off, that is.

"Frank Iero?" she asked and Frank nodded, "I'm Lindsay. Lindsay Ballato, I'm your court appointed lawyer."

Frank raised a cautious eyebrow, "I didn't ask for a lawyer."

"Oh, but you need one, honey." She sighed and pulled up a chair that had been placed nearby. Frank parked off on the floor and looked up at her, nerves coiling in his stomach.

"What's going to happen to me?" he asked softly.

"Well, there is some pretty substantial evidence against you.." she began, "I mean you confessed, and the voice on the tape matches yours.. They found the murder weapon, with your prints on it.."

"Murder weapon?" Frank asked, frowning lightly.

"Well you stabbed your wife over 30 times, honey.. And your kids probably just as much.." she stated softly and Frank winced painfully, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"I don't remember anything at all.. I'm not lying.. They don't believe me..." he looked up at Lindsay with pleading eyes and she let out a sigh.

"That's what I'm hoping to prove.. With that in mind, we could get you to plead insanity.."

"I'm not insane!" he hissed ruefully and Lindsay looked down at her file in her lap as though she were about to argue.

"Look, Frank.. There's only so much I can do.. And I was going to say that they can only hold you for 48 hours in here, or until they find something circumstantial.. But they seem to be sealing your fate, hun."

Frank let out a groan, "So now what?"

"That depends?" she sighed softly, "That depends on what you want to plead."

"I.." Frank began, and then looked up at her, "What do you think I should do.."

"Look, you know what you did was wrong, so the insanity thing might not work because the general rule of pleading insanity, the defendant isn't able to distinguish between right and wrong, but on the other hand, your state of psychosis might just be something they need to look into, especially since it happened twice."

"Twice?"

"Do you remember murdering the Captain?"

"I did what?!" Frank shrieked, leaning forward. Lindsay flinched at his raised voice.

"You were.. You really don't remember?" she asked softly and Frank shook his head vigorously, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin.

"You attacked him, in the interrogation room..." she said, "Broke free from the handcuffs and attacked him.." she bit her lip, "It's on the security footage.."

"But.. I don't remember that.." Frank hung his head in his lap, trying to remember what had happened, but only static showed up, flickering little images of blood and flames.

His head gave another nasty throb.

"Look, Frank, I'm going to try.. But I'm not a miracle worker.."

"I.. I genuinely don't remember anything at all.." he stated in a low voice.

"Well, you can plead diminished capacity if we can prove you have mental problems.."

"How do I prove that?"

"I'm going to ask the judge if we are able to put you under observation.." she bit her lip again.

"You don't look very sure of yourself."

"I've never had a case like this.. I'm going to try, alright?"

"Alright.." Frank sighed, "So what now?"

"Well now, now you're going to be holding for a little while, until they're done with the scene.. But I'd like to get your side of what happened, Frank.."

"I don't know what happened." He sighed, burying his head in his hands dejectedly.

"Just start from what you remember.. We have all the time you need.." she replied simply and pulled out a notebook and a pen and began writing.

Frank let out a sigh, "Well I.." he began, "I remember coming home from work.. I pulled up at the house, and.. And I remember the Halloween decorations.. And that I would have to take my.. My kids out trick or treating after dinner."

The thought hit Frank hard, if none of this had happened, he would be out right now, walking with his kids around the block from house to house.. His two daughters running up ahead and little Miles waddling at his side with his own tiny pumpkin bucket. Frank force d his mind elsewhere, tears threatening to spill out again.

"Where do you work, Frank?"

"Belleville Bidvest.." Frank replied sullenly.

"The bank?" she asked and Frank merely nodded, "What's your position there?"

"I'm a branch manager.." Frank sighed, "Or I was anyway.."

"What happened next?"

"I.. I walked inside and.. And it was dark.. And really quiet.. And I couldn't understand where- where my wife and kids where.. And I walked through the house, I started to panic, I didn't remember Jamia saying she would be going out..."

Frank took a pause.. His heart racing in his chest, the tears had fallen, running down his cheeks. He let out a sob and lay his head on his knees, his body shaking.

"It's okay Frank.. Take your time.."

"And they.. They were hiding in the living room.." he sniffed, looking up to see Lindsay's saddened face.

"Why?"

"They were waiting for me to come home.. It's my birthday.." Frank hung his head, wiping his eyes on the back of his hands.

"Oh god, Frank.. I'm so sorry.." she sighed, "And they all jumped out and.. and I got such a fright.." he tried to force a smile at the memory, but it didn't work.

"How old were they?"

"My wife is 33.." Frank sniffed, "My daughters are- were- 5 and my son was.. He was 3.."

Frank's bottom lip began to tremble.

"What were their names?"

"Jamia.." Frank began toying gently with his blood-coated wedding ring, "My daughters were Cherry and Lily, my son is Miles."

"Jamia?"

"J-A-M-I-A." Frank recounted.

"Oh.. Right.." Lindsay scrawled, "What happened next?"

"I... I remember hugging my daughters, they were dressed as princesses.. They.. They loved princesses.. They looked so beautiful.." Frank's voice went low, almost inaudible, before he looked up, "And they ran off.. And I remember playing with my son.. He was.. He was dressed as a lion.. And.. He loved lions.. He- he tried to eat me.. And I was playing dead.." Frank trailed off, wringing his hands.

"You loved them.." she stated and Frank could only nod.

"They were all I had.." his voice cracked near the end, a hiccup wracking his throat as more tears threatened to flow.

"Then what?' Lindsay pried and Frank lay back down on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

"Then I.. I said hello to my wife.. I held her for ages.. until my daughters interrupted me, they said it was gross.." a tiny glimmer of a smile almost made it onto Frank's face as he remembered Cherry peering into the living room with her sister's face over her shoulder, "and Jamia, she went to go and set up for dinner, and I went to go and find Miles.. He.. He ran off somewhere.."

"Where did he go?"

"I found him under our bed.."

"Does he usually go under there?"

"Yeah... We have a bed curtain.. He likes hiding under there, he called it his night-night place." Frank bit his lip, "and I carried him into the dining room and sat in in his chair.. And I sat in my own... I remember my daughters on my.. My right.. Next to each other.. They seemed so excited.. And Jamia.. She.. She brought out a cake.. They.. They were all singing.. And.. And I don't remember anything after that..."

"What do you remember next?"

Frank frowned, his brain aching as he tried to recall, "I.. I remember waking up underneath the dining room table.."

"I thought the dining room table was overturned, Frank?" Lindsay stated and Frank looked up, frowning.

"What?"

Lindsay held up a photo of the dining room and she was indeed right. The dining room table had been flipped, laying in the corner, surrounded by food. Frank was surprised, and very confused. The frown deepened and he lay back down.

"I don't.. I thought.. I don't know then.. I remember crawling out from under something and then I.. I slipped.."

"On what?" Lindsay asked and Frank felt a lump form in his throat and he looked away from the ceiling.

"Jamia's blood.." he barely managed a whisper, "And that's when the police came in.."

"Right.. Okay.. So you genuinely don't remember anything at all after the birthday singing?"

Frank shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh, "Fucking nothing at all.. I remember.. I remember the candles.."

"The candles?" Lindsay asked, her voice raised with an upward inflection at the end, curious.

"Yeah.. I... I remember the candles caught my attention for some reason.. I couldn't.. I kept staring at them.. And.. And I felt as though I couldn't breathe.. And all I could hear was white noise.. A constant ringing in my ears.. I couldn't hear Jamia or my kids anymore..." Frank frowned.

"And then?"

"And then nothing.. Everything went black.. It all went foggy.. I haven't got any sort of recollection of anything else until I woke up in the dining room from the police sirens.. It was so loud.."

"I see.." Lindsay bit her lip and Frank looked up to see her frowning and scribbling away, "What about the incident in the interrogation room?" she then asked, looking up at Frank as she turned to another page in her notebook.

"Oh.." Frank sighed, "Well I was so gently put into the police car.. And they drove me here and left me handcuffed in the room for god knows how long by myself.. Ass holes.." Frank sighed and he heard Lindsay giggle softly, a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, her laugh, no matter how short, it was a tinkling, happy sound. It made anyone want to smile, it was contagious.

"What next?"

"Then I remember one of the officers coming in and trying to ask me questions.." Frank replied slowly, trying to recollect what had happened.

"Who?"

"Oh, there were a few officers who tried to get me to talk.. Even though I told them over and fucking over again that I genuinely had no fucking clue what happened.." Frank sighed in frustration, "The first guy, I don't remember their names, I didn't really bother at the time... the first guy was some blonde oaf with a too tight shirt and a snotty attitude.."

"Could you identify him if you had to?" Lindsay asked.

"I could identify all of them.." Frank added and Lindsay nodded, "He tried to be a tough guy and force me to talk, threatening me rather rudely with jail time.. But I didn't bother with him.. He left.. Then this woman came in.. She looked Latina, if I'm not mistaken,.. She tried to persuade me to talk.. Tried to be all nice and sympathetic with me.. And I told her I knew nothing.. Then this older guy comes in, looked a bit like Sean Connery, he tried to bribe me with some deal about a lessened sentence if I confessed.. And I told him I knew nothing.. He left not too long after.. And I was just so tired of all of them looking at me like I was some diseased animal.. I just gave up and stopped talking altogether.."

"That's always a good thing.." Lindsay commented and Frank's eyebrow rose faintly.

"Then that old fuck came in.." Frank hissed through his teeth and he felt distaste bubbling in his stomach.

"You mean Captain Haughton?"

"The very same.." Frank quipped, "He walked, or rather, he waddled in.. and sat down in front of me.. And he tried to get me to talk.. To confess. And I told him the same thing I told everyone else.. And he started yelling at me, starting calling me a son of a bitch and a sick fuck.. And he said I was going away for a long time.. And that I did it.."

"What did you say?"

"I told him to prove it.." Frank let out a shaky breath and his stomach began to twist and coil nervously, "Not before I made him angry though.."

"How did you make him angry?"

"I may or may not have purposefully annoyed him to make myself feel better." Frank shrugged, tucking his hand behind his head as he spoke, "I referenced Supernatural.. I don't think the Captain knew what I was talking about but it still made him motherfucking angry.. He turned maroon.."

"And?" Lindsay asked and Frank looked at her again, he saw a slight smile on her face before it was wiped away by professionalism.

He liked her, he had to admit, she at least acted like she cared, and right now that was enough for Frank. At least his lawyer wasn't some balding, upper-middle class ballbag with thinning hair and a tweed jacket.

"And he pulled out a little tape recorder.." Frank sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, "And he played the confession for me.." Frank remembered the sound of his voice on the tape. How it sounded like him, but at the same time it sounded like someone else entirely.

"Did you listen to it?"

"I did.. Not all of it.. I couldn't.." Frank felt another prick of tears in his eyes at the remembrance of Jamia's screaming, "I could only listen to the first part.. I was going to be sick.." Frank admitted.

"What did you hear?" she asked and Frank felt his mouth go dry.

"I heard.. The operator, she was talking on the phone but there wasn't any reply until.. I guess I started talking to her.. And then I just.. I heard Jamia screaming and.. And.." frank trailed off, his voice cracking, a slight sob in his throat and he turned onto his side on the cold concrete floor, curled up slightly, "She sounded like she was in pure agony.. I don't even know what I had done to her.."

"You.. You broke her legs, Frank.." Lindsay enlightened and Frank felt his stomach lurch painfully and he felt like he was going to be sick.

"Then.. I sat there.. I felt so.. I felt numb.." Frank tried to move on from the recording, pushing it from his mind for now, "and he was just fucking smirking at me, the ass hole.. And then he offered me a cigarette.."

"Do you smoke?"

"God no.." Frank spat slightly, "And he just smiled and pulled out a box of matches and..." Frank trailed off, frowning heavily.

"And?" Lindsay asked, stretching the word out, waiting for Frank to continue.

"And he lit a match and lit his cigarette.. And.. The match.. It caught my attention.. Just like the candle.. I had the same ringing in my ears.. And.." Frank sat up, "And I could remember things.. I remember Jamia screaming for me to stop.. I remember blood.. And it felt like a movie.. Everything was flickering.. And then I remember.. Lunging at the captain.. But then.. Black.. Nothing.." Frank looked up at Lindsay, "And then I woke up.. I was tackled to the floor.. My mouth tasted like blood.. Everyone was screaming.. And then.. I was sedated.. And I woke up to you calling me.." Frank finished off, and Lindsay raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"Strange..: she whispered, before looking down at her notebook, "I'm.. I'm going to run this over and.. I'll appeal for your observation, okay? Don't talk to anyone unless I'm with you.."

Frank nodded and he watched Lindsay stand up, looking rather flustered.

"Lindsay?" Frank asked and she turned on her heel, looking down at Frank as she put her notebook back in her case.

"Yes, hun?"

"You believe me, hun?"

"I.." she began, and looked down at her hands, Frank felt his stomach sink.

Of course she didn't.

Who would?

He was absolutely fucked out of his head.

"I believe that you did it, Frank.. You know it too.. You seem to have it set in your mind, and the rest of the DA, and the judge and the jury are probably also going to believe you did it.. What I believe is that you don't remember it.. And I want to help you figure out why it's happening and hopefully.. If we do.. We can figure out what will happen to you, and if we can help you fix it.." she stood up, smoothing out her blazer.

"I'm going to help you, Frank."

He let out a sigh, and he felt betraying tears running down his cheeks. He couldn't reply to Lindsay. He could merely nod in her direction before laying back down on the ground.

He knew he was fucked.

He knew this was over.

He was going to be sent away for a long time.

He just didn't know where and when.


	5. Chapter 4- The Temporary Room of Insanity

Chapter 4

Frank had been in holding for god knows how long as he waited for the news. He felt as though he were about to go batshit crazy if something didn't happen soon. Surely it had been long enough by now.

The only problem was that Frank had been offered bail, even though for some admissible reason, no one had bothered to tell him. His bail was set at some ridiculous amount, and he knew then that his fate had been set.

He definitely didn't have that kind of money.

He didn't have a wife to bail him out.

He didn't have parents to lend him the money.

He didn't even have siblings.

He explained this to the officer, who had Lindsay on the phone, and she merely said that Frank would have to "stick this whole thing out, hun."

The niceties at the end didn't soften the blow, the reality of Frank's possibility of ending up in jail. He didn't even know what time it was, he wasn't even sure if it was night or day anymore, but he sat on the cold, hard, ground, leaning ruefully against his cot, and he stared out passed the bars, where he could catch a tiny glimpse of the black and white television that was set on the table in the precinct.

Then finally, after sitting for what felt like days, he saw a sight that he genuinely hadn't been expecting. Lindsay.

Frank had never been this excited to see any person before. And that included the time he was waiting for the doctor because he thought he had prostate cancer but it turned out he just drank far too much Kool Aid and he didn't, in fact, have blood in his piss. Just dye.

Frank sat up slightly when he saw Lindsay walking towards him.

She strode in rather confidently, and as soon as she saw Frank, a smile spread onto her cherry lips. Frank felt a slight glimmer of hope bubbling up in his gut.

"Hi.." she smiled brightly, her raven hair hung down over her white blouse, her black slacks fell straight down to her feet and Frank could see beneath the sheer material that Lindsay's arms were covered in tattoos.

He felt himself blush and he closed his mouth, "H- Hi?"

"Sleep well?" she asked, pulling up the same chair."

"I didn't sleep.." Frank admitted.

"At all?" Lindsay raised an eyebrow and Frank shook his head rather solemnly.

"What's the time exactly?"

"7:30am.." she smiled and Frank let out a sigh, he should have been at work already. If he had a job that is.

"Right..." Frank sighed, "So, what do you have to tell me."

"Well... The Judge was rather upset with me for phoning him so early this morning, but I wanted an appeal as quickly as possible." She began, lifting her briefcase up onto her lap.

"And?"

"And you're being transferred from here to Mental Hospital... A normal one actually.."

"Normal? How is a nuthouse normal?"

"I mean.. Well.. There's the basic one for crazy teenagers, there's the one that Hannibal went to where no one leaves their cells.. And then there's the in between one.. Minimum security.. It is for the criminally insane, but not.. Well.. You're just in for observation so you won't necessarily be quarantined until they can figure out how dangerous you are.. You'll be able to interact with other patients at regular intervals and that sort of thing.."

"How long will I be there?"

"Usually they make it a month but who knows.." Lindsay sighed.

"What's the name of this place?"

"Briarcliff Mental Institution.."

Frank had never even heard of the place before, and to be honest, it didn't sound as bad as he had initially thought it would be.

"When do I go?"

"I'm escorting you as soon as they locate their bearing son the other side." Lindsay smiled.

"You?" Frank raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Well.. Me, and a few officers.. I feel the need to come with just to make sure you're in good hands.. They don't like you much after you masticated their captain." Lindsay admitted honestly and Frank frowned.

"Masticate means 'chew'?" Frank stated, frowning, before it sunk in and he looked down, "Oh.. Right."

Frank watched as an officer wandered over to his cell and wandered in cautiously, his hand near his gun. Frank swallowed hard and three other officers followed suit.

"Get up." One of them barked in Frank's direction, making him recoil.

"Please would be nice.." Frank spat ruefully and he scrambled up and he heard the police officer mutter something under his breath.

"Slowly." The other officer stated and Frank paused, halfway up, and continued at an exaggerated pace. He was suddenly whipped around and handcuffs were slapped around his wrists. And then he felt another pair snap around his arms as well. He frowned.

"What the hell?"

"You broke out of the first pair last night, so I guess its precaution.." Lindsay added from behind them before Frank was turned around again.

He felt something pull around the back of his head and he jumped before looking at one of the officers who was holding a half mask in his hands.

"What do I look like to you?" Frank protested, anger surging through his veins, "I'm not Hannibal Lecter."

"Precautions Frank." Lindsay stated rather sympathetically as the plastic mask was put over Frank's mouth and buckled tightly around his head. The cool metal bars against his lips made him shudder. He looked at her and they pushed Frank forward, letting him stumble out from the cell. He glared back at them and looked at Lindsay with pleading eyes, but she merely shrugged.

"There was nothing I could do.. The judge said maximum precautions on the journey there or you won't get the appeal.

"Great.." Frank managed around the bars, but it came out slurred slightly, "I feel like a rabies ridden dog."

"It's just for the ride there.. And then you can take it off.."

"Yeah yeah.." Frank sighed before he felt a hand wrap around each arm and escort him through the small row of holding cells they had. He ignore the whispers and cat calls, and his cheeks were turning red, but he kept his eyes on his shoes.

Frank was piled into a police van, sitting on the side of the van on the steel seat across from two officers, two nervous looking officers.

A small glass window opened up ahead and Frank saw Lindsay sitting there in the passenger seat.

"You alright?"

"How alright am I supposed to be looking like this?"

She remained silent, biting on her lip, and turned back to face the front as the van chugged to life and they began their drive there.

Frank looked over the two peaky looking officers and smirked to himself, they were young, new, and Frank knew they were edgy around him.

"Hi.." Frank managed and they both stared at him with widening eyes.

"We're not supposed to talk to you.."

"Why?" Frank tilted his head to the side, "I don't bite.."

One of them let out a slight whimper that Frank picked up, but the other remained silent.

"So, what are your names?" Frank asked.

"I'm.." the one began before earning a smack to his arm.

"Patrick no.." the older looking one said and the one Frank now knew as Patrick, paled.

"Hi Patrick.." Frank managed a slight smile behind his Hannibal mask and Patrick looked like he was about to keel over.

"Nice going, Bob." Patrick hissed and Frank raised a genuine eyebrow.

How did these two make it into the police force? They were as dumb as cork.

"So.. Patrick and Bob.." Frank sighed, leaning back slightly on the hardened seat, "Is this your idea to come with, or were you put up to this because you're new?"

They both blanched lightly and Frank knew immediately it was the latter of the two.

"Well I won't hurt you.." Frank smiled, although it was moderately true, he had no intention of harming either ginger, he didn't need to let them know that.

"Like hell.." Bob snorted, "I saw what you did to Captain Haughton, you sicko."

"He started it.." Frank smirked menacingly and Patrick began to turn away from Frank, looking anywhere else.

"You bit his face of.." Bob stated and Frank almost flinched, but he remained calm, although he was feeling ill at the thought.

"I did?"

"And his neck.." Patrick added, "Cannibal.."

"Oh no.. I'm not a cannibal.. I don't enjoy human flesh.." Frank corrected.

"Oh yeah, then what are you?" Bob spat.

"A victim of misfortune.." Frank replied simply and Patrick raised an eyebrow.

"I don't get it.." he replied simply and Frank heard Bob scoff lightly at his ignorance.

"I had no other weapon at my disposal, so I used what I had, Pattycakes."

Bob let out a loud snort and turned to look at Patrick, who was turning a violent shade of pink and looking down at his boots, his feet turning inward.

"Ahaha, Pattycakes." Bob sniggered, looking at Patrick, who was finding great interest in the floor of the van, even going so far as frowning at it.

"Don't be mean to your partner, Bobert, it isn't nice." Frank stated and he could see Bob scowling ruefully and a tiny smile on Patrick's face.

The rest of the drive was in silence, with Frank leaning back, his eyes closed, his head tilted up. The road was slightly bumpy in the back, but he didn't mind it, at least it wasn't gravel or dirt.

Frank was just about to doze off when he felt the van come to a stop and the engine cut in silence. He let out a groan and hung his head forward, ignoring the crick in his neck. He looked up at Patrick and Bob, who were looking back nervously. The van doors opened, exposing the overclouded skies and shaded trees. The officer standing there beside Lindsay gestured for Patrick and Bob, who helped Frank up and escorted him off the truck, making sure he didn't fall on his face.

"Well, Frank.." Lindsay said with a slight smile, "Welcome to Briarcliff.." she gestured behind them to a large, brown, facebrick building. It reminded Frank of those old Victirian houses, except this one was enormous in comparison and a lot more guarded.

Frank spied bars on the doors and windows and patrolling guards and the occasional dog. But even with those factors in mind, it was a beautiful looking place. It had manicured grass and lush shrubbery and tall, willowy trees. Frank smiled lightly as he felt the familiar hands on his arms and he was being escorted towards the door with Lindsay at his side.

Lindsay pressed the buzzer on the gate and it clicked open. Patrick held the door for her and I as we stepped in. the first thing Frank noticed was the smell. It smelled of baby powder and cleaning supplies, and some sort of ghastly air freshener.

The floors were a light blue linoleum, the walls were crisp and white, rimmed with a sickening beige. Abstract art littered the walls of the front room and Frank only feared it to be worse on the other side of the swing doors behind it.

An African woman sat behind the desk in a lavender colored blouse, her bushy hair pulled back behind her, she had a kind face, but it looked tired.

"Hi Marie.." Lindsay greeted with a half sigh, stepping in front of me lightly.

"Oh, hi child.." the elderly woman gave a smile, "What are we doing here?"

"Judge Renoir phoned, I hope?" Lindsay looked at her hopefully and Marie, as Frank now assumed her to be named, began looking through files.

"Oh.. A Frank... I...eero?"

"Its not pronounced like that.." Frank stated idly, he was so used to it by now.

Marie glanced behind Lindsay at Frank, and for a slight minute, she seemed shocked, but she smiled, "Sorry, honey."

Frank looked away again and let the two woman discuss him.

This was his new temporary home. It didn't look too bad from here and he wondered what the rest was going to look like.


	6. Chapter 5- This is Where it Starts to Crumble

Chapter 5

Lindsay and Marie had finally finished their far-too-long discussion and Frank's feet were beginning to ache from standing for too long.

He looked around the room for the thousandth time, before he felt a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

"Frank?" Lindsay called out and Frank glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, making her eyes widen slightly, "We're uh, the nurses are coming to take you in, should I come with?"

Frank nodded almost instantly and he saw a short smile on Lindsay's face. She dismissed Ginger 1 and 2 and they looked almost relieved to leave his side. Frank turned to look at them and caught a glimpse of Patrick looking at him as he exited, almost tripping and falling if Bob hadn't been there to catch him.

Frank turned to see two tall, muscular men dressed in white scrubs walking through the double doors. They didn't look as mean as Frank had pictured the people here to be, but then again, looks were deceiving, Frank definitely knew about that.

They flanked either side of Frank, making him feel even smaller than usual, and Lindsay walked with them as they walked through the double-hinged swing doors. The doors opened up onto an enormous hall, also blue linoleum, the same baby powder and cleaner smell hit his nose. The walls weren't as crisp white, but more of an eggshell, off-white that was less unpleasing and sharp to the eye.

There were people walking around, all dressed in yellow pants and white t-shirts. Some had their own jerseys over their clothes, whilst some did not. They sat sullenly around in hard plastic chairs or on the floor. Some were reading, some staring absent-mindedly at the walls, some were participating in a circular group therapy, while others stood around chatting.

"Everyone is on lunch hour.." One of the nurses explained and Frank nodded, watching the people as he walked by, and then slowly, one by one they began to stare, turning from their activities to look at him.

Frank suddenly felt awkward with how he was being treated, the mask and cuffs still present on his person, for everyone to see. He was mortified that they hadn't yet removed his confines. Nobody was going to want to be anywhere near him, not after they had seen him like this.

Frank was escorted through the hall and down a long, straight hallway lined with white doors, each had a number on them.

"This is the Observation hallway.. All of the group therapy, one-on-one sessions, observations and testing are done in here." The same nurse explained before they stopped in front of a door roughly halfway down the corridor.

"This is the Bright room.." The other nurse explained and Frank raised a curious eyebrow, "Doctor Brighton usually has a quick one-on-one with all of the newbies in here. This is also where you're assigned your schedule, your clothing, your room and all the other necessities."

"I think we can let him out now, boys." Lindsay said after God knows how long. Frank had almost forgotten she had been there.

She handed the nurses a small set of keys and Frank was genuinely surprised that she had the keys for his handcuffs in the first place. He felt one set of cuffs unlock wrist by wrist before they were handed to Lindsay. The next pair came off and Frank's arms fell limply to his sides. He let the nurse unbuckle his half mask and watched it disappear over the top of his head. He took in a deep breath and turned to look at Lindsay, who seemed slightly on edge for a few moments, before she graced Frank with a smile.

"If you ever have any problems, phone me, okay?" she said rather breathlessly, and Frank nodded.

She held her hand out for Frank, and he shook it tentatively, before she looked at the nurses rather sternly, "You take care of him, understand?"

They both nodded and she narrowed her eyes at them before picking her briefcase up from the floor, "I'll come by in a few days and see how you're getting on, okay?"

"Okay..." Frank stated simply and she turned and made her way down the hallway. Frank found his wandering eyes resting on her ass as she walked and he sucked in a breath and looked at the two male nurses by his side.

"So?" he asked and they seemed to wake up, one pulling out his keys and unlocking the door for Frank. He stepped inside slowly and noticed the room was different to the rest of what he had seen of this place.

It was carpeted in beige, the walls a light grey, in the corner stood a wall-length book shelf lined to the max with thick, leather-bound books. There was a large, wooden desk in front of it with files and books stacked neatly on top. On the wall opposite Frank, there was a table with a file, a set of clothing, a bag and an envelope. On the opposite side of the room from the desk sat a sofa, a lounging chair, and an armchair, all made from the same red upholstery. Next to that set up there was a whiteboard that had been wiped clean.

Frank turned and one of the nurses was standing by the door, the other had just exited, closing the door behind him.

Frank eyed the nurse, who had his hands folded behind his back, "You can get changed so long."

"Cant.. I mean.. I haven't showered in 2 days.." Frank protested slightly and the nurse didn't move.

"You can shower after you've spoken to Dr. Brighton." The nurse stated simply and Frank looked at the table before wandering over.

He noticed a manila file with his name on it and curiosity burned lightly in his stomach, he saw a clear zip lock bag and he frowned slightly, but turned back to the nurse.

"I put these on?" he asked, gesturing to the pile of yellow and white.

"Yeah, your clothes go in the bag." The nurse explained and Frank turned away from him and tucked his fingers under the scratchy t-shirt he had been given by the precinct, after they had taken his clothes for evidence. The only thing on his body that he had owned were his socks and his underwear. He had to choose something from the lost and found, since he had refused to wear an orange jumpsuit whilst he was only in holding.

He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling the stinking material over his head and throwing it down on the table. He flexed his arms forward lightly, hearing a satisfying click as the joints in his back popped into place. He grabbed the white t-shirt and slid his arms in before tugging it down over his head. He looked down at the scruffy pair of sweatpants he had chosen to wear and he let out a sigh, glancing over his shoulder at the nurse, who was watching him with a stony, stolid expression.

Frank felt his cheeks flame as he turned to look back at the ugly, light yellow pants. Whoever decided on these clothes as their daily wear, should be burned at the stake. Frank kicked off the ugly trainers he had on his feet before he shoved his pants down, letting them pool at his ankles before he stepped out and kicked them aside. He picked up the linen-like pants and bent down, sliding his feet into each hole, pulling them up under his navel and untucking his t-shirt. He picked up the sweatpants and the t-shirt and stuffed them onto the bag. He placed his shoes in the bag as well and stood there in his socks.

"Do we get shoes or am I barefooting this bitch?" Frank asked and he saw a slight smirk on the nurse's face.

"We'll get you shoes afterwards, we weren't sure what shoe size you were.." the nurse replied and Frank set his zip lock bag of clothes back down on the table.

"You can have a seat over there while you wait, Dr. Brighton should be here any minute.."

"Righteous.." Frank replied rather sarcastically and wandered over to the seats in the corner. Frank plopped down heavily onto the sofa and grabbed a nearby pillow, he began pulling at a loose thread on the corner ear as he waited, he had to admit he felt rather nervous, he had no idea what to expect from these observations, what he was going to be put through or anything of the sort.

The fact that he could hear someone screaming in the distance was not helping the cause either.

Then the door opened and Frank looked up to see an elderly-looking man, at least in his 60's, walking in. even for his age, Frank could tell this was a lively old man, he didn't walk slow, or with a limp, he walked rather determinedly, as though always in some sort of hurry.

"Sorry I'm late, dear boy.." The doctor looked at Frank, who shrugged, surprised.

"I didn't even notice.." was Frank's honest answer. The doctor shrugged off his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door, before he dismissed the nurse. Brighton wandered over to the table and picked everything up, except for the bag of clothing, before walking over to Frank and sitting down in the armchair.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like Michael Gambon?" Frank asked and Brighton looked up, "Without all the beard that is.."

"Actually yes, a few of our younger patients here have indeed mentioned it." Brighton smiled before he leaned back, picking up the file, "So dear boy, care to tell me why you're here?"

"I'm.. I think I'm here to be under observation?" Frank guessed, his statement coming out rather like a question than an answer.

Brighton began writing down in Frank's file.

"I see you already gave a statement to your lawyer, Miss Ballato?"

"I did.."

"Do you know why you're here for psychological observation?"

"Because.." Frank trailed off.

"Because.." Brighton pried slowly, his pen pausing in its scribbling.

"Because I killed my family and there's some fucked up part in my brain that makes sure I don't fucking remember a god damn thing.."

"There's no need for that kind of language.. It won't bring them back.." Brighton stated and Frank scowled bitterly at his pillow.

"Sorry.."

"No need.." Brighton smiled, "No, dear boy, would you let me ask you a few questions?"

"What do I have to lose?" Frank asked rather rhetorically.

"Excellent.. Now.." Brighton leaned forward and looked at Frank, "I want you to keep your eyes on me with every answer, understand?"

"Yes.." Frank replied, an uneasy settling in his stomach.

"What's your whole name?"

"Frank Anthony Iero Jr."

"Age?"

"34."

"Where do you live?"

"Belleville, New Jersey."

"Did you or did you not murder your wife and kids, Frank?"

Frank swallowed hard, "... I don't know.. I did.. I.. I don't remember.. I-"

"Calm down.. Just breathe.." Brighton stated slowly, his voice dropping to a softer tone, "If you did kill them all, Frank, would you agree that what you did was wrong?"

"I.. Wrong?" Frank's nose scrunched up slightly, "I.. Wrong?"

"What you did, was it good or bad? Was it right or wrong?"

"I.. It was.. It was bad..."

"Would you say that you were aware that you were doing these things at the time?"

"No.. Not at all.."

Now, Frank, would you say that, if you could undo what you have done, and they were all here, would you kill them again?"

"I.. God no.." Frank looked appalled by the question, "Why would you-?"

"Calm down.. These are questions we ask, just to get a basic understanding of your mental state now and during the incident.."

"Oh.." Frank felt his cheeks warm slightly.

"So you wouldn't kill them again willingly?"

"I didn't kill them willingly the first time.." Frank replied and Brighton raised an eyebrow.

"Would you say that you understand what you have done, that you know you killed them, and nothing is stopping you from comprehending this?"

"Except for the fact that I don't remember it at all, no.."

"What about the captain? Do you remember that?"

"I remember.. Flashes.. On and off.. But.. I don't remember doing it.. I remember before and after.. But.. Nothing else.."

"Each question I ask you, is a valid question that has for some or other reason, needed to be asked, whether it has been from a previous case, and is now a law, like the first question was based on M'naghten test, which evaluates whether or not you know right from wrong.." Brighton continued, "Then there's the irresistible impulse test, of whether or not you'd be able to resist the impulse of killing them again, and now, the burden of proof.."

"The what?"

"You can say stop if you need to, but it is best if you manage to do the whole thing.." Brighton continued and a frown creased Frank's brows, knitting them together.

Burden of what?"

"burden of proof, it's a test where we see if the defendant or the patient is able to handle the burden of what they have done, if they are able to face what they did."

Frank felt his stomach lurch, his heart starting to increase its pace, "H- How are you gonna?"

Frank was cut off midsentence as Brighton lifted up a box from the floor and placed it on the table. Frank leaned back wearily as Brighton lifted the lid and looked inside. He reached in and lifted up a picture in a frame. Frank let out a whimper, staring back and his and Jamia's wedding photo.

"Who is this, Frank?"

"Jamia and I.." Frank choked out.

"This is your wife?"

"Y- Yes.."

"She's beautiful, Frank.." Brighton commented before placing it on the table, before picking up a doll and holding it up for Frank, who cringed, holding his pillow tighter, "What is this?"

"It's.. A doll.." Frank took in a heavy breath.

"Whose doll is it?"

"Lily's.."

"Do you miss her, Frank?"

"Y- Yes.." Frank felt his eyes stinging with tears but he held them back as Brighton fished for the next item, pulling out a pink tiara, "Cherry.." Frank whimpered, his breathing uneven, as memories flooded his brain.

Brighton held up a large teddy bear and Frank let out a slight sob, his hands aching to touch the bear that had once belonged to his son.

"Was this for Miles?" Brighton asked and Frank nodded.

"He loved that bear.." Frank held out a hand for it and Brighton obliged, handing Frank the brown teddy. Frank clutched it to his chest, leaning his head on it as though it were his son instead.

"Frank?" Brighton called and Frank looked up, his arms restricting the bear, not letting it go, "And this?"

Frank let out a whimper when he saw a zip lock bag hanging from Brighton's hand, in the bag was a bloodied kitchen knife.

"I.. I don't know.. I.. The.. Did I use that?"

"You tell me, Frank."

"I don't know.."

"Here" Brighton held up a photograph, "I'm going to show you some photos and I want you to tell me how each one makes you feel, can you do that?"

"I can try.." Frank replied.

"This one?" the doctor asked, holding up a family photo they had taken in the beginning of the year.

"I.. I feel.. Happy.. But... Sad.."

"Why?"

"Happy because I remember how happy I was there, and sad because.. Because I'll never have that again."

"And this one?" Brighton held up a photo of Miles as a baby, on the day he had been born.

Frank felt a lump rising in his throat, "Proud... And sad.."

"Why?"

"Because I.. I made that.. And.. And it's gone.." Frank looked down at the bear and held onto it again.

"What about.. This?" Brighton held up a photo and Frank let out a choked gasp and he looked away, it was a photo of the dining room, covered in blood and bodies and complete carnage.

"Angry.. And sick.." Frank replied.

"Why?"

"Because if I did it, I ruined everything, I took away the only thing I loved in the world, the only thing I had left that kept me sane and happy.. And.. And the violence.. I.. I could never.. I mean.. I.."

"What about this one Frank?"

Frank looked up cautiously and saw a picture of his wife laying on the ground in a pool of blood. Frank let out a low moan and looked away, tears running down his cheeks.

Or this one?" Brighton held up a photo of Miles on the ground, his body limp.

Frank began to sob, the memory of finding them all when he woke up, of holding Miles in his arms for the last time before he was wretched away. He began to cry, loud, shattering sobs left his throat as he felt his heart breaking all over again. He didn't care who saw him cry this time, he had been so strong, trying to hold it in as long as he could, but it was too much, it hurt too badly for him to try and cover it up any longer.

"P-Please.. I c- cant.."

"Why.."

"I cant.." Frank continued to sob loudly, his body shaking as he hid behind the bear like a child.

"Tell me why, Frank."

"I c- can't l- look a- at it.."

"Do you feel guilty?"

"I f- feel sick.. I feel l- lost.. I feel em- empty.. I feel. Nothing a- at all.. I don't f- feel like I did it.. I don't feel l- like I have it in m- me to do it.. I don't feel g- guilty bec- because I don't re- remember.. I feel ho- hopeless.."

"You don't feel any remorse?"

"I w- would if I knew that I really did it." Frank replied with a hiccup, his chest aching.

"But you did do it Frank.. There's so much evidence that you did it.."

"Then why don't I r- remember it? Even in- insane p- people remember th- these things.."

"Not all of them.."

"I just.." Frank looked down at the bear, "I l- loved them.. I had been m- married to my wife for almost 9 years.. I had 3 beautiful ch- children that I would never give up for anything.. I had a house that I finally managed to buy so I never had to worry about money.. I had a great job.. I just.. I wouldn't do this.. And if I did, it wasn't me.. I wasn't in my right mind.. Something happened.. And I want to know what.."

"What about the captain.."

"He didn't deserve to die.. But I don't remember it either.. I don't remember anything.. And I don't want to remember, even if I did do it.. I'd rather not have the memories of killing my family.."

"Frank?"

"What?"

"I don't think you're going to be leaving here any time soon.." Brighton replied simply and Frank remained calm.

"I think I'm done with the questions.." Frank only replied and Brighton began packing away the things from the box.

"Can I have the teddy now, Frank?"

No.." Frank replied simply.

"You can't keep it."

"Yes I can.."

"Frank."

"I said no!" Frank snarled, and then recoiled, startled at his own anger. Brighton raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, "I'm.. I'm sorry.."

"Don't be.." Brighton replied, "Just.. Give me the bear, I'll have to let one of the nurses search it for any contraband, and then I might be able to give it back to you.."

Frank didn't let go, he knew what that meant, he let it go now and he'd never see it again.

"How do I know you won't just put it back in the box and say you forgot?"

"Because you can trust me, Frank.."

"No I can't.."

"You can trust Dumbledore, right?"

Frank let out a sigh and handed the bear over to the doctor, who set it down on his chair beside him.

"Now, why don't you go and mingle with the patients while they sort your room out?"

Frank got up slowly, eyeing the bear, before he walked slowly to the door and pulled it open. He looked out into the hallway and found a nurse standing there with a pair of white shoes in his hands.

"These are for you.." he said simply and handed Frank the shoes before walking off in the other direction. Frank put the shoes on the ground and slipped his feet in, bending down to tuck his finger in the back, letting his foot slide in. he wiggled his toes in the shoe, and began walking down the hallway, his stomach churning nervously.


	7. Chapter 6- Meet the Cast of the Funhouse, Little One

Chapter 6

Frank stood in the entry way of the hall, awkwardly watching the patients in their activities. He had no desire to do anything as off now, and he had no genuine desire to 'mingle' but he didn't want to be on his own either, not when he had been on his own for the past 48 or so hours.

He wandered closer to the patients, keeping close to the wall, when he noticed one of the other male patients watching him closely. He felt his stomach churn and he looked away rather nonchalantly. But when he looked again, the patient was walking over to him.

Great.

"Hi," he said with a slight smile, "You're the new guy, right?"

"Uh... I guess?" Frank shrugged.

"What's your name, new guy?"

"Frank.."

"Oh like, uh, well I can't think of any cool people named Frank- I mean, uh- you're probably cool but like, I mean.. That's cool.. I'm Pete.." he smiled again, blushing rather furiously and lay his arm around Frank's shoulders, "Wanna sit with us?"

"Us?" Frank asked as Pete steered him towards one of the tables in the corner.

"Yeah, it's me and a few guys.."

"A few?" Frank pried, he wasn't a huge fan of crowds and especially not right now.

"Me and 3 other guys.."

Frank let out a sigh of relief as he was stopped in front of one of the tables, 3 guys wasn't as bad a he thought it would be. Pete cleared his throat and the three boys looked up from their game of cards.

"Guys, this is Frank.. He's new.." Pete smiled broadly.

They muttered a hello in a sort of unison and Frank sat down beside Pete, who turned to look at him. Everyone had set their cards down and all eyes were on him, his feet turning inwardly slightly.

"So Frank, what are you in for?" Pete asked lightly and Frank blanched.

"I uh.." he tried to keep it basic, "Murder.. I guess.."

"Nice.." Pete waved a hand, not prying too much, which Frank was grateful for, "Well you know my name.. And uh, I'm in here because I really enjoy scalping people.. You should have seen it, I had an entire collection of all different kinds of scalps with all kinds of hair and some of them were really pretty and I even got a Mohawk, which is a lot of upkeep if you think about, there was also this one girl who had dreadlocks and.." he sighed rather reminiscent, trailing off. Frank fidgeted lightly in his seat at the smile that had crept onto Pete's face.

"Right.." Frank replied rather awkwardly and looked at the guy next to Pete, who was slightly taller, with dark brown hair and doe-brown eyes and a cheery smile.

"Hi, I'm Brendon.." he held out a hand to Frank, who shook it lightly, before dropping his hand bac down in his lap.

"What are you in for?"

"Oh, I uh.." Brendon went slightly pink, "I did a copycat.."

"What do you mean?" Frank frowned.

"He copied Jeffrey Dahmer." Pete replied and Frank raised both eyebrows, looking from Pete to Brendon.

"Really?" Frank asked and Brendon nodded, "I wanted someone to stay with me forever and I know he almost got it right, so I tried it myself.. It was a lot of fun actually.."

"Did it work?"

"No.." Brendon looked down rather dejectedly.

"And how about you?" Frank asked the smaller, brown haired boy beside Brendon and he looked up, Frank's jaw dropped.

The kid looked like he was only 18 years old, or even younger, "Jesus Christ, how old are you?"

"I'm 20," The boy said indignantly.

"Hush, Ry, he didn't mean it in a rude way.." Brendon stated, laying his hand on the younger boy's leg, but the boy still raised aa poignant eyebrow.

"So. Uh, what did you.. I mean.." Frank couldn't get over how this innocent looking boy had managed to end up in a place like this.

"I'm.. My name is Ryan.." he stated simply and added nothing more. Frank frowned and looked at Brendon and Pete, both looking only slightly uneasy, but Frank remained resilient, he was so curious.

"Am I allowed to know what you did?" Frank asked Ryan, but Ryan didn't answer and instead began to rake in the cards and shuffle them rather hastily.

"He was a black widow,.." Pete whispered near to Frank and Frank frowned, he wasn't quite sure what the term really meant, but he had heard it before, "He would make these men fall in love with him, he'd have sex with them and then behead them and take their stuff.. He had this room where he kept it all and he never really left there. He was like a hoarder.."

"That's enough about my personal life, thank you.." Ryan stated rather abruptly and Pete jumped lightly in his seat, his mouth snapping shut, he let out a slight whimper and looked away. Frank raised an eyebrow at Pete, was he afraid of little Ryan?

"So where is your room, by the way?" Pete eventually asked after a minute of awkward, tense silence.

"I don't know yet, they're still busy with it, I guess.."

"Oh?" Pete frowned, "Did you see Brighton yet?'

"I did.." Frank replied, flinching slightly, and Pete merely nodded.

The four of them sat in silence and Frank watched as Ryan continued to shuffle the cards with his nimble fingers, and he also seemed to notice how Brendon was watching Ryan, rather avidly, too interested for it to be considered normal.

Frank hid his slight smirk when he noticed Brendon's enamored expression and he looked around the room, trying to get a better look at some of the patients. His eyes scanned the crowd that sat in the huge hall, and they stopped on one person.

He felt his mouth go dry.

He rose slightly in his seat when he looked at her.

She looked just like his wife.

Her dark brown hair was short, the tips ending just above her shoulders, her nose button, like a pixie and she was even the same chubby, curved shape that Frank had longed to hold every night. His fists clenched around the armrest of his seat and he yearned to look away, but he couldn't.

"Who's that?" Frank asked softly and he felt Pete scoot closer.

"Who?" he asked, and Frank nodded to the girl who was standing in the near corner of the room, staring out of the window.

"Oh her.. I think, I think her name is Alice.."

"What's she in for?"

"I have no idea, I don't remember her coming in, she's been here longer than Brendon has.."

"How long's Brendon been in here?" Frank asked, turning idly to look at the man in question.

"About 9 years or so.." Brendon smiled rather proudly.

"Jesus Christ, how old are you?"

"30." Brendon shrugged, looking almost offended as he uttered the number brashly.

"So you don't know what she's in for?"

"Not really.. Why?"

"Just.. Curious.." Frank whispered, turning away from Alice as Ryan began to deal out cards/

"Frank?"

Frank heard his name being called and he looked up to see a nurse standing nearby.

"Your room is ready.. C'mon.." it was a female nurse this time, and she smiled at Frank rather sweetly. Frank stood up, lifting his chair as he stepped back. He looked down at his new acquaintances and bit his lip.

"I'll uh, I'll see you guys around then?"

"Yeah, sure.." Pete smiled and Brendon gave a slight wave, but Ryan didn't budge.

Frank followed the petite nurse down a different corridor and up a single flight of stairs before turning to the door on the left, the second door at least.

"Here you are, dear." She said simply and Frank peered in.

The room was small, a bed pushed up against the far wall and a simple dresser beside it. He looked at the white walls and the blue bedding and he let out a sigh.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Downstairs and the third door on the right.." she stated, "Lunch time is over, but I can arrange something for you if you like."

"I'm good for now, I can wait for dinner."

"Alright, that's at 6pm."

"Thanks.." Frank sighed, before turning, "Do I have to be in here now, or can I go back to the hall?"

"You can go back, but there isn't much of the hour left.."

"What do we do after that?"

"Then there's group therapy for those in A-K.."

"A to K?" Frank asked.

"Last names, from the letter A to K, if your last name falls under there, then you have group therapy, meet in the hall to be split up.." she smile and wandered down the hallway. Frank walked back down the stairs slowly, curiously making it all the way back to the entry way.

He stood there and peered around the corner, the guys sat in their same places at the table, all 3 concentrating on their cards. Frank looked around and he found Alice still standing by the window.

He wandered through the people and over to her, standing behind her as his heart began to race in his chest. He brought his hand up, tapping her shoulder lightly. She jumped, turning to face him, when a small frown set above her large, brown eyes.

"H- Hi.." Frank whispered softly and the frown only deepened, "I'm new here and.. You're Alice?"

She seemed startled that Frank knew her name, but she didn't move, her eyes gracing over his face with genuine intrigue. She only seemed to nod as a reply to Frank's question and he looked away, before looking back at her, "Are you okay?"

She raised her eyebrow slightly and turned to fully face him, taking a step forward. Frank swallowed lightly and watched as she tilted her head to the side, observing him still.

The awkwardness blossomed low in Frank's stomach but he pushed it down, ebbing it out as he watched Alice. She straightened up and a small smile came to rest on her plump lips. She held her hand out for Frank, who took it slowly, and instead she pulled him into her, embracing him.

Her arm wrapped around him in a consoling manner, her hand stroking the back of his head. If it wasn't exactly what he had internally been craving for almost 3 days, he would have been totally weirded out, but instead he wrapped his arms around her, his eyes squeezing shut as he took in a shaky breath.

"Shhh.." she whispered gently against his ear and Frank buried his face in her neck. She knew, somehow she knew, you don't just go around hugging strangers like this. This was purposeful and Frank couldn't help himself.

She slowly pulled away from Frank, and he looked down, color flooding his cheeks.

"I'm sorry.. I.." he began, but he suddenly felt a finger on his lips, he looked up at Alice to find her smiling at him.

"Shh.." she whispered again and Frank found himself smiling back.

"Okay everyone! Group therapy, A to G! Huddle up!" Frank jumped lightly and turned to look at Alice, but she gestured to the crowd, entwining her fingers in his as they became part of the forming mass that stood in front of a male nurse on a chair.

"Okay, A-C go to 12, D-F to 14 and G-I to 17.." The nurse informed and Alice looked at Frank expectantly.

"I'm in I.." Frank stated and Alice gestured to the hallway as the group slowly dispersed. Frank followed some of the others down the hallway, completely lost, when he was suddenly pulled to a stop.

He turned to look at Alice with a frown and she pointed to a door, Frank looked at the brazen number 17 on it and muttered out an "Oh right.."

They stood amongst another 6 or 7 people, an Frank couldn't stop looking over at Alice, a smile constantly wanting to pull at his lips but he pushed it down. He heard someone clear their throat and Frank turned to see a friendly looking male nurse with long black hair standing in the doorway.

Frank stepped aside, muttering an apology before taking his seat in the circle beside Alice.

The male nurse waited patiently at the head of the circle for everyone to be seated before he turned to Frank with a smile, "You first, newbie."

Oh wonderful.


	8. Chapter 7- The Psychic, The Mental Case and The Harry Potter, Reunited

Chapter 7

"Me first?" Frank swallowed heavily and looked around at the unfamiliar faces staring at him.

"Yeah, introduce yourself..."

"Uh.. Hi.." Frank swallowed lightly, "My name is Frank.."

Everyone greeted him back rather boisterously and Frank flinched lightly, before looking at the nurse, who smiled, "How old are you, Frank?"

"34.."

"Would you like to tell us why you're here..?"

"Not.. Not really.."

"The first step in moving on is facing what you did, Frank.." the nurse gave him a sweet smile, but Frank so badly wanted to just roll his eyes and flip him off, "We're not moving on until you say something, Frank.."

"I.." he looked down at his lap, wringing his hands nervously, when he saw Alice place her hand on his knee and give it a reassuring squeeze, "I... I killed my wife and my children... I think.. And- and the police captain that had me in custody.." Frank ended with a frown.

"You think?" the nurse asked as Frank heard a few murmurs within their group, but he ignored it.

"I don't remember either of those.. I don't remember doing a damn thing, but they have evidence and footage so.." Frank trailed off.

"Right.. Well, that's the past Frank, we're your family now.. Welcome.."

"Thanks.. I guess.."

"No, thank you for sharing.." the nurse turned, "Anything from you today Alice.."

"Fire.." she whispered, her eye turning glassy, "fire and death and fear and sadness.. I saw it. I saw it in my dreams.. I saw it all last night.." her voice continued to trail off, her voice slightly wispy, Frank frowned.

"Alice?" he asked, nudging her lightly.

"She has moments... she's.. She's special.." the nurse smiled slightly, but he seemed rather petulant when he spoke of Alice.

"Is she psychic..?" Frank frowned.

"If you want to label it..." the nurse began, "Why don't we all get accustomed, make our new family member feel more welcome, we'll go down the line, introduce ourselves, and tell Frank how we came to be a part of the family here.. Alice?"

Alice continued to mutter to herself, staring down at her lap, when the nurse cleared his throat, Frank looked up, "What did she do?"

"She thought she could predict the future.. And she ran around killing people who she thought were in danger... turns out the only danger was her, really.." the nurse stated with a slight smile as Alice let out a whimper. Frank slowly put his arm around her, as though it might have helped, and looked at the next one in the circle.

"I'm Jason.. And I used to poison the people at my church because they were possessed by demons and they were trying to kill me.." the man named Jason, who was slightly older than Frank, stated simply.

"My name is Alli, and I killed my husband because he tried to feed me to his farm animals.."

"You didn't live on a farm, Alli.." the nurse pressed lightly and Alli pulled an angered face at him, but remained quiet.

The nurse was next in the circle next to Alli, and he turned to the younger kid next to him, "Go on, Simon.."

"My name is Simon.. But it's really Harry Potter.. I'm Harry Potter.. And I have to find Horcruxes.. You'll see.." he pointed at Frank, making him lean back, "Crucio..."

Frank stared back awkwardly, unsure of what was happening, when the nurse slowly lowered Simon's hand and Frank noticed an actual lightning bolt etched into his forehead and Frank realised, with a sickening twist in his gut, that it was most likely self-inflicted.

"He ran around trying to poison people with potions and stabbing them with a sword.." the nurse explained.

"I was using a potion to counteract Polyjuice Potion! I was looking for Death Eaters!" Simon protested and Frank tried to stifle a laugh at his expense.

The rest of the group went on, introducing themselves to Frank, but he wasn't paying much attention to them as he was to Alice, who seemed to have calmed slightly. She glanced up at Frank and he felt a slight knot in his stomach, butterflies swarming in his gut, making his tremble slightly.

"Hi.." she whispered softly and Frank smiled.

"Hi..."

"Do you mind leaving your conversations until we're done?" the nurse interrupted and Frank jumped slightly.

"Sorry.."

"How are you feeling, Alice?" the nurse asked and Alice flinched lightly, making Frank frown and look at him with perplexity, "After one of her moments she... she gets a bit feverish.."

"Oh.." Frank looked down at Alice, who was trying to smile lightly up at him, her head on his chest, making his heart skip a slight beat.

"Do you want to be excused, Alice?" the nurse asked.

"Only if Frank can take me to the infirmary.." she whispered hoarsely and Frank felt his cheeks warm up at the mention of his name.

"Fine. But Frank needs to return here when he's taken you.."

"Okay.." she whispered softly and Frank took his chance, he let go of Alice and scrambled up, holding his hand out to Alice, who held on and helped herself up.

Frank wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her walk to the door before opening it and helping her out into the hallway.

"Thank you, Frank.." she whispered softly.

"Anything to help.." he managed with a grunt as they walked down the hallway, but Frank froze, "I don't know where the infirmary is.."

"I'll show you.. C'mon.." she smiled reassuringly and turned down the next corridor, "But I want to show you something else first, if that's okay.."

"Yeah, I.. That's fine.." Frank smiled as Alice moved from under his arm and took his hand in hers, willing him down the corridor before they stopped outside of a door. She opened it slowly and ushered Frank inside.

He peered in, taking in what he assumed to be, her bedroom. Or he hoped it was her bedroom at least.

"Sit.." she whispered softly, pointing to the blue, neatly made bed that stood in the middle of the room. Frank wandered over, perching himself on the edge, and watched intently as she opened her dresser drawers ad began looking around.

"Can I help?" he asked slowly after a few minutes, but Alice straightened up with a smile and wandered over. She sat beside him, handing him a tiny stack of paper, "And this?"

"I want you to look at them.."

"Oh.." Frank whispered and looked down at the first page, "Why are they in wax crayon?"

"We aren't allowed anything too sharp.." she scowled lightly and Frank nodded, looking at the drawing, when he noticed it was a beautifully coloured orchid. He smiled, racing a finger over one of the petals.

"I like it.."

"Look at the next one.." she whispered and Frank turned the page and noticed that, with a sudden jolt, he was staring down at a drawing, a slightly offish but still recognisable, drawing of his own face.

"Wh-... What?" he frowned, looking at her with genuine surprise.

"I dreamt about you 3 nights ago.. With you and fire.. And blood.. There was anger.. And sadness.. Then I saw you.. I recognised you.. I knew you needed a friend.. A hug.."

"You.. You knew I was coming here before anything even happened?"

"I suppose so.."

"That's.. Albeit slightly creepy, that's amazing.."

"It is creepy.." she began to fluster, stealing the pages back, "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to... I just.."

"No.. No don't.. I'm glad you showed me.." Frank bit his lip, "Did you only see me or..?"

"Your daughters were beautiful, Frank.." she lay her hand on his knee and he felt tears stinging in his eyes.

"You look like her.." Frank stated, "You look just like her.."

"I.." Alice looked down slightly, "Does it make you uncomfortable? Should I go?"

"If anyone should go, it's me, seeing as it's your room..." Frank looked up at the door, "But no.. It's.. It just surprised me at first but.. But you somehow make it okay.."

"I do?"

"You do.. You make it feel almost less painful, because it's like she's here with me.." Frank admitted, but then his eyes widened, "Oh god.. I didn't mean it like that.. I just meant-"

But he was cut off by Alice, her soft lips on his in a comforting, tender kiss. He was surprised by the bold move, his entire body tensing from the unexpected, but somehow, he couldn't move, he didn't want to.

It felt somehow, and the closest thing he had right now, to home.


	9. Chapter 8- Beautiful is Dirty, You Make Me Filthy

Chapter 8

"Alice- Alice wait.." Frank finally pulled away from the girl that had had her lips pressed against his. Don't be fooled, Frank genuinely wanted to kiss her, more than anything, he just wasn't all too sure about everyone else in this place.

"What is it?" she asked rather breathlessly and Frank suddenly twitched, his eyes flickering only slightly, before focusing again. He frowned.

"What if someone walks passed? Or someone comes to look for me, I was supposed to go back to the group.." Frank twitched again and looked at Alice, who was looking at her hands, wringing her fingers slowly.

"You don't want to be with me, do you? I thought we shared something.. I thought you.. I mean.." her voice ended on a high pitched crack and Frank closed his eyes before pulling Alice back into him, his lips crushing hers with intensity.

At first, Alice remained still, her body tense and unsure, but as Frank ran his hands up her arms in a tender, slow manner, she seemed to melt, her hand resting on his knee. The touch sent a small ripple of energy up into his stomach, releasing butterflies upon his intestines. He let out a small whimper and looked at Alice, who seemed to be slightly pink.

A small smile graced Frank's lips, was it because he had feelings for the young girl or was it purely based on the fact that she looked just like Jamia, Frank didn't know, and he didn't care.

In the back of his mind, something seemed to snap only a fraction, and to him, it was Jamia, she was right here with him, and he had never been this happy.

"I.. I missed you.." he whispered, pulling her into a hug, a tight hug that he never wanted to end. He felt Jamia wrap her arms around him reassuringly, her head resting on his shoulder.

"You're going to be okay, Frank.." she reassured, and Frank nodded before pulling back, a clouding haze blurring his reality, everything seemed distant, except for his beautiful wife.

"Do you still love me?" Frank asked, twitching slightly again, "Even after what I did?"

"Of course.." she replied and Frank leaned in again, his lips sought hers in sheer desperation.

Frank kissed her tenderly, trying to hide the desperation in his body as she kissed back, but slowly, he found himself unable to stop himself, pulling her closer to him, feeling her pressed against him, the heat of her skin on his was something he sorely missed.

"Frank?!"

Frank jumped away from his wife and stared at the doorway where he had heard someone talking. He flinched horribly when he saw the nurse that had been directing the group therapy standing there with his arms folded, looking rather sour.

"Oh.." Frank looked down, twitching again, before he looked up at Jamia, "I got in trouble, didn't I?"

"Just go, Frankie.." she replied softly and Frank turned to look at the nurse.

"I'm sorry... I'll come back.. Just please don't get my wife in trouble.. She didn't mean to.." Frank slowly got up, looking back down at Jamia, and he cupped her cheek before he felt himself being whisked away from the room they had been in.

Frank was silent, brooding, staring down at the floor as he was escorted back down the hallway and into the familiar group therapy room, but it was empty.

"Frank.." the nurse let go of Frank's arm and Frank continued to watch the dark specks that were ingrained in the tiled floor, "I need you to look at me.."

With a soft mumble under his breath and not so careful consideration, Frank tore his gaze up from the ground and he looked up at the nurse, who had his arms folded.

"You should know that patient cavorting is against the rules."

"My wife isn't a patient here." Frank snapped harshly and the nurse frowned.

"Your wife?"

"Yes.." Frank replied rather vapidly, how did the nurse think Jamia was an actual patient here, hell, she would never belong in a place like this. She had only been here to see him.

"Where was your wife, Frank?"

"I- didn't you see her? I was with her now when you pulled me from her for no reason!"

"Frank... That was Alice."

"No." Frank replied sternly.

"It was-"

"No!" Frank covered his ears with his hands and looked away, unable to listen to the bullshit stream of lies that were making their way from this jack off's mouth.

"You need to listen to me.." the nurses voice was muffled over the soft ocean-like sound that Frank's hands were creating over his ears. He scrunched his eyes shut and began to scream, he didn't want to hear it, he didn't care about anything this liar had to say. His brain began to burn, as though it had been sliced open and hot, scalding hot water had begun to pour over it. He felt tears pouring down his face as he clenched his jaw, his teeth gnashing together.

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop!" Frank pleaded, his brain had begun to buzz, his body felt like it was being wracked with its own personal earthquake. He couldn't control any of it and he felt himself falling. He hit the ground and every bone in his body felt like it had shattered into a million pieces.

His mouth continued to spew forth incoherent words and sentences and he continued to thrash, his eyes were blurring every single reality as though it knew he couldn't handle it. He was breaking, he knew he was about to snap like a twig under the weight of strong hands, but he couldn't stop it.

Every tie to reality suddenly felt as though it had been cut, like ropes on a rickety draw bridge under the weight of a storm. His mind began to ring out with templasia, with white noise and he found himself pulled form his own body. He continued to whisper to himself as he was drawn towards the black nothingness of his own inner insanity. It was darker than any black he had ever seen before and it welcomed him with open arms, embracing him more than any person ever could.

~

Frank awoke slowly, even though he had been in and out of consciousness for god knows how long, lying dead still s though he were paralyzed, even though he was in actual fact just incredibly lethargic.

He hadn't wanted to move, hell, he never wanted to move ever again, but he could tell his body needed to move soon, it was beginning to cramp up from the lack of use.

It felt as though Frank had been asleep for years, when it was most likely a few hours ago that he had broken down and succumbed to the welcoming darkness of insanity.

But now here he lay in the vapid darkness in unknown surroundings, his body feeling like lead and his head spinning like a mad roulette wheel on its last and final binge round.

He let out a low groan and looked around; blinking profusely, when his eyes came into focus, and he realized that he was in his own assigned room. But although he recognized his own room, something felt off.

He sat up slightly, and his head gave a rather nasty throb, eliciting a hiss in the back of Frank's throat as the throb continued to travel down through his nerves, he even managed to feel the pain in his knee caps. He looked around his room, sitting up finally, and flattening the sheet that hugged his legs.

The room was dowsed in night; the inky blackness bathing everything and sundry, and only the sliver of light was coming from under his door as the hallway light remained on.

He looked around slowly, the sense of foreboding began to creep up on him, the insatiable urge that he was being watched seemed to tingle in the back of his mind. He swallowed lightly and scanned his room, when he noticed that there wasn't even a place to hide in his bedroom and his paranoia suddenly seemed irrational and foolish.

But then again, what wasn't irrational and foolish in this place. Frank let out a sigh and turned onto his side, his hand stinging painfully. He looked down with a sudden sense of alarm to find that an IV was attached to his hand, and the stand stood beside him, two clear bags hung from the stand, a slow drip from each one ran down a clear tube and ran into his veins.

He smiled to himself and lay back down, his brain still insanely fuzzy and noncommittal to any train of thought as of his first waking up.

It was most likely a side effect of whatever they had running into his veins and for once, Frank didn't seem to care, the buzz he was currently on was worth it. He thought of everything and nothing at the same time and it made him feel like he was soaring.

His bedroom door opened slowly and Frank turned to look curiously at who would possibly want to visit him at whatever hour it was. Then Frank noticed it was his Jamia that had pushed the door open, he could never mistake her curves and her hair in any depressing darkness. She snuck into the room, the door closing behind her with a soft click, and she turned, wandering over to Frank.

"Hi baby.." Frank croaked, a hazy smile stretched across his face.

"Shh.." she whispered placing the very tips of her fingers to his lips, "Just let me love you, Frank, for one last time.."

Frank let out a soft whimper before he felt Jamia's lips on his, her hands pulling them closer to each other as butterflies exploded through Frank's gut.


	10. Chapter 9- The Mistakes of Genetic Code

Chapter 9

Frank awoke the next morning, his brain aching and throbbing like a bad hangover. He wasn't even sure where he was yet again, and it felt as though years had passed. His eyes opened and all he saw was white walls and a white ceiling.

He tried to move, but he couldn't. Sure his arms were able to move, but they couldn't move an inch from where they were crossed over his chest in a white straight jacket.

He looked down at his arms and let out a whine, scrambling up

"Help me!" he screamed, trying to crane his neck at the door of a tiny, white room that he was in.

This wasn't his room; he was stuck in there, bound for uncertainty. He looked around again when he heard a long buzz and his door opened, he saw a familiar aged man walk in, but he didn't remember how he knew him.

"How are you, Frank?"

"What the hell am I doing in here?" Frank croaked, pulling at the sleeves that bound his arms.

"You were bad, Frank." The man stated simply and Frank frowned, standing there like an awkward goose.

"H- How? I don't remember anything except... I don't remember anything after my group therapy."

"Frank.." the doctor began and Frank shook his head.

"What's wrong with me."

"You seem to be having a series of spontaneous psychotic breaks.. You're dangerous, Frank."

"Psychotic breaks?" Frank looked up.

"Yes, psychotic.. You hurt a lot of people in your life, Frank.. You're a dangerous person.."

"Wh.. What did I do?"

"A lot of bad things, Frank.. What do you remember?"

"I. I don't know.." Frank backed away from the doctor until his back hit the wall.

"You killed your family, Frank.. In a psychotic break.. You then murdered a deputy sheriff whilst they were interrogating you, another psychotic break.. And then you got here, you got rather close to a woman named Alice, Frank.."

"Y- Yes.. Alice.." Frank looked up, "Where is she?"

"You seemed to believe she was your wife for a short while, Frank.." the doctor stated as frank began to hyperventilate, unsure of the way his body was starting to react.

"And it seems you two had sexual intercourse, Frank."

"I.. I don't.." he shook his head, "No.. I didn't.. I would never.."

"You did, Frank.. And you killed her.."

Frank let out a choked sob and shook his head, "No.. I wouldn't.. Why would I.. I- I liked her.."

"You loved your family, Frank.. That won't stop you from doing bad things.. Especially when you aren't in control of your mind and your body.."

"Wh- Why would I?"

"She tried to kill you, Frank.."

Frank looked up in shock, "She- she tried to.."

"She's what we refer to as an angel of mercy, Frank.. She was mentally ill.. She believed she could see how people would die and then would try and save them by killing them herself.. She tried to strangle you, Frank.. But something inside of you snapped and you managed to get away but.. Frank.. You killed her.."

"I.." Frank felt betraying tears streaming down his face and staining his jacket, "I didn't.. I didn't.."

"Frank.."

"What did I do.." Frank asked, sliding down the wall as he continued to sob, "Wh- What did I- I do t- to her?"

"You strangled her, Frank.. With.. With her own underwear.."

Frank let out a soft scream and began to pull at the jacket, trying to tear his way out.

"I didn't! I didn't! I didn't!" he yelled, his voice cracking as he continued to cry angry, hateful tears.

"Frank.. Son, calm down.." Dr. Haughton tried to calm the poor boy, but he failed, only making him wail louder, "Frank, once you've calmed down, you're allowed to leave here for a walk, accompanied by guards, just to clear your head and maybe get something to eat.. Would you like that?"

"Go away!" Frank screamed, kicking his legs out like a child who didn't get their way.

This wasn't happening. He couldn't believe it to be happening, not now, not to him. He watched as the doctor walked out of his tiny room and Frank scrambled up and threw himself at the door in protest, screaming as loud as his throat and lungs would allow.

He felt like he was going through the worst kind of nightmare that his psyche could possibly imagine. Some sick and twisted figment of his imagination that felt far too real for him to escape, worse than he could handle and he felt as though he were far too close to his own breaking point.

Frank stumbled back from the door and threw himself against the wall, sobbing as he came into contact with the far-too-solid wall, his body crying out as it was put through its paces by a mind too far gone to realise the damage it was causing.

He threw himself into the opposite wall and let out a soft, desperate scream for help, his entire body ached, his left arm throbbing painfully almost as though it had been put through a lot more than the rest of the body and he should worry about it more.

He leaned forward against the wall with the side of his face, the tears making him slide slightly as he felt himself giving in. the sobs hurt his chest and the screams hurt his throat, the salty tears burned his cheeks, his flushed cheeks.

He slid slowly into the corner, his breath aching into his lungs, and fell to the floor like a dead body, everything suddenly feeling like lead, his arms hanging limply around his body in the straps of his god forsaken jacket.

He heard something slide open, metal against metal.

"Frank?"

Frank ignored the soft, angelic-toned voice that flowed into his room, it was far too sweet for Frank's ears, he didn't deserve it gracing his ears.

"G' 'way.." he sobbed softly.

"C'mon, sweetheart.. You need to eat.."

"'M not hungry." He sniffed, turning away from the door onto his side, the cold concrete floor stinging his skin though his thin white pants.

"You haven't eaten in days, Frank, you have to.. For strength.."

"I don't need strength.." Frank mumbled, "I don't need anything."

"Come on, dear.. Don't you want to see your friends?"

"I have no friends.. I have nothing anymore.. I have nothing.. Just leave me alone.."

"Frank.."

"You can't make me eat." Frank turned completely, his back to the door.

"Do you want me to send something in here instead?"

"No."

"Not even something to drink.."

Frank was silent, his throat stinging and the thought of liquid had him calm slightly, and he finally turned and looked at the door to see a set of soft, blue eyes looking at him through a small slat, "M- Maybe something to drink.."

"Alright..."Frank could almost see the smile in her eyes before the slat closed and he heard footsteps retreating.

He lay there, staring at the wall behind him, his heart hammering in his flushed face, and his eyes burning.

It wasn't a moment later when the door opened and he heard something slide across the floor slowly. He turned to see a tiny tray of food and a large plastic jug of water. He scrambled up to the tray, crawling on his knees as he sat before it, and then looked up at the nurse that stood in the door.

"I.. my hands.."

"I can't let you out.." she whispered softly and Frank hung his head, "Are you thirsty?"

"Dying.." Frank admitted, when the nurse stepped forward and sat on her knees, pouring the water into a Styrofoam cup and lifting it to Frank's chapped lips, tipping the chilled water into his mouth.

Frank swallowed heavily, like a malnourished child, chugging the entire cup empty in one go. He let out a gasping breath and felt the water travelling down his throat, making him shudder.

"More?"

"Please.." he croaked softly as she refilled the glass and let him drink from it, draining the cup in record time.

"Do you want any of the food?" she asked and Frank eyed the plate decked with a simple sandwich and some browning apple slices.

"I.. Uh.." he felt his stomach twist with hunger as he eyed the apple slices. The nurse seemed to understand and she picked one up and held it out for Frank, who took it willingly, chomping the whole thing.

He managed to finish the whole plate and half the jug of water but then he felt a stinging ache in his bladder.

"I uh.. Where do I go?" he finally asked as the nurse picked up the plate.

"Go?"

"I have to pee.." Frank felt a soft, rosy blush on his cheeks and he looked down.

"Oh.. Just in here, follow me, dear.." she opened the door to his tiny room and Frank wandered out. He saw another door right beside his and in front of both of them, not a meter away, was a thick set of jail bars, separating him from the rest of civilisation. Well, not civilisation exactly, but the rather insane part of it, the outcast set of humanity banished to this forsaken building when no one wanted them anymore, for mere mistakes in their genetic code.


	11. Chapter 10- For Death Begins With Life's First Breath

Chapter 10

Frank sat in his cell on the hard concrete floor, staring at the dull walls in front of him that he had decorated with nonsense that spewed from his head. He had been allowed wax crayons on good days to keep himself preoccupied and instead of using the old perforated fax paper they had given him, he took it upon himself to decorate his cell.

At first the nurses had told him it wasn't allowed but Frank was insistent that if he had to sit in that bland cell any longer it'd probably be the reason he'd go completely mental and have another breakdown. So they allowed him to draw on the walls even though it wasn't necessarily allowed.

It worked as a form of therapy for Frank, the colours on the walls and the way they mixed together to form the pictures in his mind, even the nonsensical scriptures that spewed from his mouth as he wrote them down on the wall, chanting over and over to himself. At first it was illegible, until most of the faculty and staff were able to sit him down and that was when Frank began talking at a slower speed, and the writing on the walls were all extracts and passages from all sorts of Edgar Allan Poe's works.

Frank wasn't even sure he knew much of Poe and his work, sure they might have learned about him at school but the reciting of these passages were constant, and always the same ones.

Eventually however, they left it as a symptom of his psychosis, and only upped the dosage of his medication and doubled the amount of his one-on-one therapy.

He sat today, cross-legged on the floor with a bunch of wax crayon stumps in his lap, the black pencil in his hand as he ran the waxy stick over the dull square he had picked out. Frank was by no means an artist, average and sub-par at best, but it certainly made him feel better to be able to express whatever was going through his mind when he needed it.

"Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled. Whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence, whether much that is glorious, whether all that is profound- does not spring from disease of thought- from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect." Frank murmured to himself as he sat back and surveyed the work in progress. A black raven flew over the space he had drawn, its long wings soaring out beside its sleek body, its beak open on a squawk of despair. Frank set the black crayon down and picked up the red, orange and yellow and continued with the background of his favourite piece.

"It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation- not to speak technically- busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe."

Frank swapped between the three colours in his hands, creating dark, divine tongues of flame around the anguished, desolate bird. The flames reached higher, engulfing the very bottom of the piece above his current one.

Frank looked up at the writing that stood above his raven and read through it before he recited it to himself, "In our endeavours to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember."

He set the flamed colours down and ran his fingers through his hair before repeating the first verse again. He had no idea where they had come from. He had no idea how he knew them or even what book they came from, or even if they were all from the same book or not. It didn't bother him, the little citations calmed him, made him feel less out of his own head and body, brought him back to earth.

Frank heard a short buzz and his head snapped up to the door, a slight bubble of anticipation rose as he waited for whoever was at the door to either come in or speak through the small opening slat.

"Frank?" he heard a voice of one of the nurses, Frank remained silent but waited for them to talk again, "Are you hungry?"

Frank scrambled on his knees to the door, happy that he had at least behaved enough for them to take the straight jacket off a while ago, he wasn't sure when. He had no sense of time anymore.

"I am.." He replied, eyeing the nurse through the slat.

"Would you like to come out and see your friends for breakfast?"

"Can I?"

"Will you behave?"

"Do I have a choice with nine thousand nurses sitting around me.."

"We'll make it eight thousand today and if you continue to behave, we'll keep lessening them."

"Sounds good." Frank replied.

"So will you behave yourself for breakfast?"

"Yes.."

"Good. You know what to do.." The nurse stated and Frank got up slowly and turned away from the door, standing to face the wall with his hands clasped behind his back. He heard the door open and he resisted the urge to obey every fibre in his body and make a run for it.

He felt hands around his until there were cuffs slipped around his elbows, making his back arch awkwardly.

Frank felt himself being turned to face the door, the nurse pushing him slowly out of the door of his cell and they stopped at the gate a meter or so after that. Frank heard the low buzzing noise of the gate being remotely unlocked before the nurse opened it and allowed him out. Frank stopped and waited patiently for the nurse, keeping his eyes closed as to avoid any and all urges to run.

He felt hands pushing him, guiding him in the direction of the dining hall. Frank walked slowly with his escort until they reached the dining hall, the door being pushed open and Frank being pushed inside.

He caught side of a waving hand, and that hand was attached to his closest friend Pete. Frank glanced at the nurse before slowly making his way towards the table near the wall. He sat slowly opposite his three friends and looked at them, their half smiles.

"So how are you?" Brendon began and Frank shrugged slightly, when a tray of food was pushed in front of him. Frank looked up at the two nurses on either side of him as usual but they didn't relent, not removing the cuffs from his elbows but instead pushing the tray towards Brendon, who merely smiled.

"Don't do this." Frank stated.

"How else are you supposed to eat?"

"Don't coddle me, Brendon.. I'm not a baby."

"You need to eat.." Frank sighed as Brendon picked up the spoon and piled some of the oatmeal from the bowl into it before holding it out to Frank. Frank pulled a resentful face before leaning forward and letting Brendon feed him.

"This is adorable>" Pete smiled slightly and Frank mentally flipped him off before chewing and swallowing the thickened grey oatmeal.

He pulled away after a few bites and leaned back in his chair, when he noticed his flanked nurses walking off to the door, talking to a man in a grey suit by the main door. Frank watched them talk for a moment before the nurses left the room completely, followed by the other two at the door.

He frowned and looked at Brendon, who hadn't even seemed to notice and continued to eat.

Frank stared down at the oatmeal, when Ryan suddenly reached out and touched his tray. Frank jumped and looked up at the usually silent kid that he had come to be rather fond of.

"I'm proud of you." Ryan whispered and Frank was, at least, rather surprised to say the least. Ryan hadn't so much as spoken to him properly since he had arrived and now this.

"P-Pardon?"

"I'm proud of you, Frank." Ryan began and even Brendon looked up with surprise, his cheeks reddening, "After the way you've been treated in here and what you've had to go through, the fact that you're still breathing and at least a fraction of mentally stable is a feat to be proud of."

Frank looked away, the colour flooding his cheeks, and he muttered a thank you under his breath.

He heard someone call his name and he looked up, thankful for the distraction at the right time. He saw Dr. Brighton standing by the entry way into the corridor. Frank managed to slide around the bench seat and wander over to the doctor, who seemed to smiling slightly.

"What do you want?" Frank asked quietly and the doctor opened the door, ushering Frank into the corridor. Frank walked passed and noticed the nurses standing on either side of the doorway. Frank walked through the corridor and continued until they reached Brighton's office, where the door stood open and waiting. Brighton walked in after Frank and watched as he stood awkwardly near the sofa.

"Please remove the cuffs." Brighton gestured to Frank and the nurse walked forward as Frank turned around. He felt the cuffs being loosened before they slipped down and over his wrists. He managed to flex his arms, his spine clicking in a few places when he turned and sat on the sofa, Brighton's eyes locking with his own for an awkward second.

"I know you're confused."

"A bit..." Frank admitted awkwardly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he continued wringing his hands out of habit.

"Well I know that you're confused because you don't have a one-on-one session today but I have good news for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"It seems this was cleared from evidence." Brighton pulled a large brown bear out from the side of his chair and Frank felt his stomach drop.

"Oh god.." Frank whispered, his voice breaking a few syllables in as he grabbed at the bear, hugging it tightly to his chest, "Fuck."

"I hope this makes up for your living conditions, dear boy.."

"Little bit.." Frank felt tears running down his face as he held onto the bear and tried to control his breathing and failed.

"Well now, I want to ask you one or two questions if that's alright with you.."

"Yeah, sure.." Frank sniffed, sitting up slightly and setting the bear on his lap, his legs crossed beneath him.

"Have you been able to remember anything about what you've done?"

"Not really.. Not at all actually." Frank admitted.

"Well I'd like to try something, if you're open to it."

"What is that, exactly?"

"I'd like to try a form of hypnosis and see if it works." Brighton admitted.

Frank let out a derogatory snort and looked down, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as well, "I don't exactly.."

"Believe?"

"You can say that.." Frank began stroking the bear's head, flicking its ear slowly.

"Well it won't do any harm to you, so why not?"

Frank pursed his lips and eyed the doctor in front of him, everything in his gut told him to burst into fits of laughter but he didn't, and instead he merely nodded.

"Why not.." he sighed, "So what do I do?"

"We'll get started in a moment.. I just need your consent."

"For what?"

"For a session of hypnosis and for someone else to be in here with us.."

"Why would someone else need to be in here?" Frank sat up, tense with anxiety and sudden apprehension.

"Well I need to be the one talking to you and sitting with you, and I can't write everything down if I'm doing that.."

"So you need someone else to be in here to write what I say?"

"Indeed.."

"Who?"

"Who would you like to be in here with you, who do you trust in here?"

Frank snorted, "I don't trust anyone in here.. In general.."

"Who would you say you have a kinship that's close to some form of trust?"

"Brendon Urie."

"A patient..?"

"Yes."

"And you trust him with this."

"Enough yes.."

"Alright, I'll send someone to fetch him.."

"You do that.." Frank shrugged softly and looked down at the bear, leaning back on the sofa with a resigned sigh.


	12. Chapter 11- The Brain is but a Filter for the Sane, but Sometimes It Has Holes.

Chapter 11

"You really are some kinda nut, aren't you?" Brendon asked Frank as they emerged from the Bright room about an hour or so later with Frank clutching his son's bear tightly in his hand.

"So I've been told." Frank replied simply.

"All that shit you said back there, you meant it?"

"Every word.." Frank sighed as they continued their slow stroll.

"Even the stuff about Poe?"

"Yeah.."

"Fucking weird.." Brendon commented and Frank let out a sigh.

"Listen. You're the closest thing I have to a friend and I trust you with this, don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Hey, I'm in here too, remember? We all know how to keep our own secrets and the secrets of others.." Brendon said cryptically and Frank nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"Is it still lunch?"

"I think so." Brendon said as they pushed through the door into the cafeteria, "It doesn't look like it."

"Fuck.." Frank sighed, "I'm fucking hungry."

"Well we can go and see if they'll still give us something in the kitchen, I mean we had a valid excuse why we missed out.."

"I guess.." Frank said as they turned, but they were suddenly face to face with two nurses.

"You should be back in your rooms.. Especially you, Iero.."

"I- I came from Brighton, I missed lunch, he was with me.." Frank began and they looked at each other.

"You will go to your rooms and food will be brought to you." They looked at Brendon, who gave Frank an apologetic look before he turned down the corridor and disappeared.

"I'm not getting fed am I?" Frank asked and the nurses gave him a smirk before they grabbed an arm each of his and steered him down a corridor that was through a thick set of doors. Frank had never been down here, but he suddenly felt a sense of foreboding wash over him.

The screaming he would here on a daily basis was getting louder, and it made the skin on his neck start to prickle, the acid in his stomach start to churn and his mouth drain of moisture.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see.. Dr. Martin is expecting you." The one nurse replied in a deeper voice.

"Who is that?" Frank sputtered as he tried to keep up with the brisk pace both of the male nurses had set, but he was jogging with them, falling over his feet, glad that they were keeping him hoisted.

They turned a corner and Frank eventually gave up with trying to keep up and instead just let his legs hang behind him, dragging over the bleached linoleum flooring. They stopped outside of one of the steel doors and punched in a code. Frank heard the door unlock and he was pushed inside and the door slammed shut, making him jump and flinch.

The room was dimly lit, out of use it seemed for now. There sat a leather dentist's chair with thick tawny-coloured leather straps for the arms, feet and head. The chair was hooked up to a set of colourful cables which ran along the floor in a mismatch of braids and binds, which eventually ran up to the side of a desk where black screens were piled.

One looked like a television screen, the other looked more simple, boxier, like hospital screens. Frank shuddered at the thought of what they did in here, but remained calm despite his best efforts to scream, cry and paw at the door like a dog stuck outside in a blizzard.

The steel-barred door open with a low and ominous creak and Frank turned to see a cliché, evil-scientist-looking man in a white coat walk in with a file.

"You are Frank?" he asked in a thick, broad European accent. Frank couldn't quite make out from where exactly, might even have been Russian for all he knew, Frank wasn't good with dialects.

"Yes, why am I here."

"I am Dr. Martin Kuchezkoff, head of ze psychology and Neurological studies here at ze Briarcliff."

"Alright, so why am I here?"

"Because all your stories, zey are ze same. And zat means zey are true, yes?"

"Well that's sort of the point?" Frank quirked an eyebrow.

"So I am here to find out how you, eh, tick."

"Okay..." Frank said slowly, suspiciously.

"Now, Frank, would you sit in zat chair?"

"D I have a choice?" Frank walked over to it and he heard the tall doctor chuckle.

"I like you, Frank.. Now I need you to undress for me, pants only.."

"R- Right.." Frank said as he carefully kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, "I can't say the feeling is mutual yet, you might try and probe me or something.."

He set them aside before he tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and leaving it on the floor, he set the bear down carefully and turned to the doctor.

"No, no probe.." Dr. Martin fastened the straps around Frank's hands and feet with a smile.

"Its' really tight.." Frank said as he tried tugging on the cuffs.

"Zat is ze point, dear boy. Now, I am going to hook you up to ze heart monitor and ze sneurological scanner and we shall begin." The doctor said as he replaced the sticky pads on each of the wires and stuck them to Frank's skin, one on his chest on either side and one on each of his temples. Frank stared up at the ceiling, biting on his lip as the room lit up, the screens buzzing with static as they were switched on.

"How does this work?"

"Well, dear boy, it is not difficult. I will show you, eh, a series of stimuli and record how your body reacts to zem so we can figure out what causes all ze trouble."

"Okay.."

This guy is German.

Frank mentally noted it.

"We start on ze easy side, yes?"

"Yeah, okay.." Frank watched his heart beat on the monitor and then looked at the doctor, who pressed a button on the screen, a picture of an elephant on a ball.

Frank stared at it.

"Ze patient shows no reaction to image 1." The doctor stated and Frank frowned, but looked over at the recorder whirring on the table.

The picture on the screen changed to one of dog. Frank smiled.

"Patient's heart rate increase in minimal, shows response to image 2 of small puppy dog. You like dogs, Frank?"

"Favourite animal." Frank smiled at the screen when it changed to a spider. Frank shuddered and he heart the heart monitor beeping erratically, matching the quickened thump in his ears.

"You do not like spiders, Frank?"

"Change it.." Frank hissed, closing his eyes.

"Are you afraid of them?" the doctor asked and Frank felt his heart rate increase tenfold, racing against his ribs, all he could do was nod when he felt something on his leg.

He looked down to see an enormous tarantula climbing up his thigh. Frank let out a scream and began to wriggle in the chair, panting heavily and feeling the tears start to run as it climbed up his stomach.

"P- Please! Get this fucking thing off!" Frank screamed, but the hairy creature only climbed up and up his beady eyes gazing up at Frank as its fangs glistened.

"Get it off!!" Frank shrieked, sobbing as the monitor began to freak out.

"Patient exhibits severe signs of arachnophobia, screams and cries are ze main symptom, no rage or anger to stimuli." The doctor stated as he held out his hand for the spider, who climbed into his palm and was lifted off of Frank's shoulder.

Frank instantly began to calm, the squiggled lines of both monitors began to lessen in frequency as he gulped for air, the light sheen of sweat on his skin made him feel hot, too hot.

"D- Don't do that again.."

"I won't, boy.." the doctor replaced the lid on the enormous jar.

"Stimuli 4," he said and brought a glass of water near Frank, "Do you have a problem wis zis, Frank?"

Frank eyed the glass, "What's in it?"

"Water.."

"I don't believe you." Frank narrowed his eyes at the doctor, who smiled simply and took a sip from the glass.

"Just water."

"Then no, I do not.."

"Not even when I go like zis?" The doctor asked and before Frank could open his mouth to ask, his face suddenly drenched with water. He coughed and spluttered, his eyes squeezed shut.

"What the fuck?!" he coughed out, shaking his head only a fraction as he felt the droplets running down his neck and chest.

"Patient shows signs of aggravation to stimuli 5, when provoked."

"Who wouldn't be, you threw water at me.." Frank sulked.

"And what about zis bear, Frank? Why do you have zis wis you?"

"Don't. touch. It." Frank growled through gritted teeth when Dr. Martin smirked at him.

"Subject has stuffed bear wis him, reason unknown, but areas of the brain located with anger and loss are lighting up, perhaps zere is guilt in our patient, yes?" Dr. Martin raised an eyebrow.

"I said drop it, its none of your business." Frank hissed, clenching his fists.

"Tell me about ze bear, Frank."

"It belonged to my son." Frank stated simply, "It's sentimental."

"Your son, ze one whom you killed?"

"Yes." Frank spat, closing his eyes.

"I see." The doctor replied and continued writing, Frank could hear his heartbeat, steady despite the anger making his blood boil.

"Suspect heart rate steady, brain function normal." He walked up to Frank and shone a small torch in his eye, from left to right, "Fully functional indeed."

"Are we done?"

"Almost, boy."

"What else?"

"Zis." The doctor flicked the switch on the screen and it showed his house, the chaos he created, the mess he had made. The blood that splashed across the floor like water in a communal shower without a drain, the upsplash of crimson decorating the walls like dances in the rain.

The upturned and broken furniture that lay scattered around the room like it had been torn through by a tornado.

Frank was thankful the bodies of his loved ones had been removed before these photos were taken, he was sure he wouldn't be able to handle seeing them again.

"Stop.." Frank breathed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked and Frank remained stony, his jaw set, his eyes unfocused and staring at the television.

Frank sat there for what felt like hours, and what probably was, being shown various things from pillows to lettuce to a fork to a pair of trainers. Either on screen or in front of him.

He was tired, he was exhausted, he was hungry and miserable. No matter how much he begged, the doctor kept him bound to the chair, telling Frank that if he wanted to get out, he could if he tried hard enough. Frank just sat there, subdued eventually, coming to terms with the fact that he was going to be there forever.

Then he looked to where the doctor had been, and he had vanished. Frank frowned to himself, when he felt a heat nearby. He turned to look at the source and found a fire burning in a hearth. He felt himself drawn to the blaze, bu unable to move. It was being sucked into his veins and his nerves, feeding him as though he were a starving child.

His mind began to haze, as though it were being clouded by the smoke emitting from the auburn flames. He could hear a sudden frantic beating somewhere nearby but it was distant, too distant for him to care. Is heart raced in his ears at a pace too fast for his own liking. This fire was bigger than the others, stronger. It hurt.

But it hurt in a way Frank could still control, he wasn't blacking out yet. He still had control, he was getting better.

Oh, but here it comes, the soul-breaching darkness. Frank fought against it but he wasn't strong enough, not yet, and soon he was gone, his mind stuck in the thick black void that dare not let him out.


	13. Chapter 12- Psychology Has a Long Past, but a Short History.

Chapter 12

Frank awoke suddenly, with a harsh, gasp of air that rushed to his lungs. It was like he had just been born and spanked into awakening, from fluid to oxygen in seconds. He took in lungfuls of air as though he had never tasted it before, his eyes watering for no apparent reason. He was laying face up on the ground, staring at the high, darkened ceiling.

There was a faint whiff of smoke surrounding him, the aftermath of fire, but no flames to taunt him in sight. He looked around the room carefully, finding a haunting, yet intriguing sight. The entire control panel with its dozens of screens and wires had been picked up and thrown across the room, the wires snapped, broken and throwing sparks every now and again in the darkened chamber.

He then realised he was sitting in the chair he had been in before, but no, he wasn't strapped down like he had been before and his worst fears had again been realised. He had done this damage. How, he wasn't sure, because that entire console must have been a tonne.

"Doctor?" Frank called out cautiously, hoping that the poor man, despite making Frank angry and upset and having put spiders on him, that he was alright to say the very least, "Doctor Marten?"

"I am here, Frank." The doctor called from whereabouts unknown and Frank sat up, his hands clasped between his opened knees.

"What happened?"

"I seem to have stumbled upon your, eh, ze root of all zis."

"Oh yeah, you gonna tell me it's fire that causes my Multiple Personality Disorder?" Frank scoffed and he heard a laugh.

"My dear boy, you do not have Multiple Personality Disorder." The doctor chuckled, "Zer is no one else inside your head. When I called out to you in your state, you responded to your name, zer is no Tom, Dick, Harry or any ozer person in your mind, just you. So don't self diagnose."

"Then why don't I remember." Frank snapped harshly, having been shot down wasn't the greatest feeling.

"I'm not too sure, yet." The doctor came into view.

"How come you're alive."

"I was not ze root of your anger." The doctor explained, "When ze fire started, you immediately attacked ze sing zat made you upset, which was ze screen showing you sings zat made you upset, I didn't upset you, so I didn't get harmed."

"Then why did I massacre my family?" Frank looked up.

"Did you have a happy marriage, Frank? Was you home life a happy one?"

"Of- Of course it was, I mean my wife and I argued like any couple and yes my kids weren't always well behaved but unhappy, never on your life." Frank sighed and lay back in the chair.

"Did you have an argument before you blacked out?"

"No, they were all sitting around the dining room table, my wife brought out a birthday cake and then.. then nothing. Black."

"Zen, as far as I can tell, my boy. Zey were in ze wrong place at ze wrong time."

"Comforting." Frank scoffed.

"I'm sorry, my boy, I have no ozer explanation."

"It's cool, I'll be okay." Frank sighed, and ran his hands through his hair before looking at the doctor, "Any ideas of what is wrong with me?"

"So far we both know it is fire that sets you off into some sort of psychotic break. What do you remember, boy?"

"At first I could remember nothing at all but now I remember a bit more of each thing I do. I remember breaking from the chair, I remember picking up the console, I remember the fire, but its as though its like a movie, I'm watching instead of doing."

"I sink ze first time it happened, you did not have control of it, and I sink ze more you have zese breaks ze more you control it."

"Okay.." Was Frank's only response.

"So, may I ask," the doctor began, writing something down, "Do you have any idea why fire is ze cause?"

"No."

"Nozing triggering in your life involving a fire?"

Frank's teeth clenched at the question, "Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"If you're hiding somesing, it will not help you in ze long run, trying to figure zis out."

"I get it, but I cant remember anything." Frank lied through his teeth and looked at the doctor, "Can I go now?"

"You may, but I will see you here again ze same time in two days." The doctor said and walked over to the door, opening it for Frank.

Frank got to his feet and got halfway to the door when he stopped in his tracks and turned to look around, "Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"The bear." Frank hissed, "Where is it?"

"Oh.." The doctor said and walked over to a table, picking up the bear and handing it to Frank, who hugged it tightly and walked out. He turned and walked down the gloomy corridor, aware that he had the same two nurses walking behind him.

He stopped as they reached the door to the corridor, Frank turned to look at them "I still haven't eaten anything."

"Are you hungry?" the tallest one asked.

"Famished actually." Frank commented, looking down at the bear in his tattooed hands.

"Anything in particular you want?"

"Surprise me." Frank smirked before he walked into the corridor of his cell. He heard the loud buzz of the gate opening, before the buzz of his door. Frank walked in and sat down on his cot, placing the bear on his pillow when he looked over at the wall on which he had done countless drawings.

"In our endeavours to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember." Frank stated softly to himself when the tray of food was pushed under the flap of his door.


	14. Chapter 13- There is a Sweet Relief in Suffering, it Makes You Feel Alive.

Chapter 13

It had been days since the last time Frank had been in that room. He hadn't been fetched for his newest appointment with Dr. Marten. Nobody had bothered with him and to be honest, Frank wasn't complaining.

He sat in his tiny room for a while now, he had run out of wax crayons and he was beginning to miss his collage work keeping him busy. But he now had the bear, he had the last memory of his son hanging by a thread, he was beginning to forget.

He didn't want to.

Didn't mean to.

So he talked to the bear, he reminded himself of everything he once had. He spoke to the toy as if it were able to listen to his stories.

"I remember. I think. I- I remember the one time I took Miles for a haircut, he thought the barber wanted to hurt him and we had to coax him into the chair with a lollipop.. he- he wouldn't stop crying, he saw the comb and the scissors and he was.. he was inconsolable. It was pretty cute- funny maybe. I felt bad and ever since then we decided I'd cut his hair.. I mean I used to cut my hair all the time when I was a teenager.." Frank trailed off.

He looked down at the tawny-caramel bear with a small smile, "I remember giving you to him, y'know.. it was.. it was a Wednesday.. Jamia asked me to pick up some things at the store and I passed a bin with discount toys and.. You caught my eye. Just, I don't know what it was.." Frank smiled slightly, "I just had to take you home to him and I did.. His face.. His eyes lit up, he has my eyes.. Had.. Had my eyes. He just smiled for hours, chewing on your ears."

Frank ran a finger over one of the floppy ears and let out a sigh "I've had to replace your eye twice too, I don't know why, but it kept falling off.. And he would get so scared you wouldn't be okay.. And I would have to make sure you're okay."

Frank brought his legs up and lay the bear against them, sitting it in his lap as he stared down at it, "I- I remember my son the most, and I feel guilty. I know I had two daughters... I loved them, but I'm forgetting, and I cant explain why. It was.. Ch- Cherry.. and.. And Lily. Yeah, I guess that's right. And Miles.. I miss him the most.. I just.. I forget.. I don't want to.. I love them.. And my w- wife.."

Frank sat the bear down on the pillow above him, still sitting on the floor with his legs up against his chest, staring at the wall across from him, his collage to his left next to the door, the barred wall to the right. The dark white wall was glaring back at him with nothing to say, and the feeling was mutual. He stared at it, his stomach growling intensely, when he thought to himself about the last time he ate.

It must have been ages ago.

Had they forgotten about him?

Had they forgotten he was there entirely?

It seemed to be that way, he had no food or water, they had yet to let him use the bathroom since he had no toilet in his room, even if it was just outside the door behind the gate with him. He had been pinching his bladder for who knows how long and he had forgotten about the uncomfortable burn. He had yet to sleep, he had yet to be taken to his appointment.

But frank didn't argue.

He didn't yell.

He didn't scream.

He didn't draw attention.

Why?

Because he didn't care.

He would have pissed himself by now if he didn't still have one tiny shred of his ego left. He wasn't incontinent like some of the other patients here. He wasn't a mindless, drooling baby. He had control of his bodily functions.

He let out a sigh and slowly got to his feet. He slid across the wall to the door and slapped a hand on it weakly.

"Please," he begged, "I know you're out there." He simpered, "I- I need.. I need to eat.. I need to pee.. I- please.."

His voice cracked with desperation as his head hung forward limply, tiredly. He slapped the door again lightly and let out a whimper, "Please."

There was nothing, there was silence.

He tried not to sob, tried to remain wilful of his tears, he wouldn't cry over a manner such as this, these tedious doors couldn't hold him. If only there were fire, he could bust the door down and break free.

But no.

There wasn't any fire, there wasn't any flammable tools or substances in his room. It made him angry, but he was too weak to be angry anymore.

He stood there for god knows how long, he had no idea, his feet were throbbing but he couldn't fall, his legs were cramping, but he wouldn't move. He leaned against the door, his head against the white painted steel, his hand scratching gently for any attention. No one responded to his pleas, his calls. Perhaps he wasn't loud enough. Maybe they couldn't hear.

But Frank wouldn't scream.

And even if he would, he couldn't.

Hs throat was burning like a raging fire, his body dehydrated, he could barely speak, he could just breathe, but it hurt his chest, like an enormous snake constricting his lungs.

He had never had this problem before.

"Please.." he croaked.

The door suddenly buzzed and he let out a whimper and leaned back against the wall beside him, waiting for someone to notice his barely being alive.

He managed to pull the door open and made his way into the bathroom beside him to finally, praisefully, relieve himself.

It hurt, it burned, it seemed to be the last of the fluids being drained from his body and he couldn't take it. He let out another sob as he finished, pulling his white pants back up and flushing the aluminium toilet. It flushed loudly and he stared at the water as it whirled around in the bowl.

No.

He was not a dog.

He would not drop to the standards of an animal just to survive. He would rather die. His throat, however, protested.

He backed away from the toilet and made his way to the gate.

"H- Hello?" he croaked, "Is anyone out there?"

"Frank?"

"L- Lindsey?" he gasped as the woman came around the corner, he was about to cry, but he didn't have enough bodily fluids to form tears.

"Jesus Christ, Frank, what the hell happened to you?" she came up to the gate and glanced at him with wide, concerned eyes.

"I- I don't.. they forgot about me.." he gasped and she rummaged through her handbag, fishing out a bottle of water and handing it through the bars. Frank gasped at the sight and greedily grabbed at the bottle, spinning the cap open and chugging what was left of the far too warm water that had no doubtedly been boiling in Lindsey's car for God knows how long.

It didn't matter to Frank. He finished the water in one go, feeling it moisten his insides that had begun cracking like the desert ground. He let out a sigh and looked at Lindsay, "Thank you." He muttered meekly and she looked at him.

"Jesus, Frank. I had no idea..." she whispered, "When last have you eaten?"

"I don't even know what day it is.." he whispered softly, "why are you here?"

"I came to look for you, it had been your court appointed amount of days to stay here and nobody had gotten a hold of me to tell me anything so I drove up to find out for myself and.. and then I find this.."

"Yeah well.." Frank trailed off, leaning against the bars, his stomach giving out another desperate gurgle.

"I don't even have anything on me, usually I have a granola bar but I-"

"Lindsey please.. it's fine.. Just.." Frank did his best to straighten up, "Just find someone and remind them I'm here, please.. it's bad enough that I almost pissed myself."

"Fuck.. Yeah.. O- Okay.. I'll be back in a minute.." she turned on her heel and disappeared, her high stilettos clacking respectively on the linoleum.

He waited, and again, Lindsey had saved his life.

He was more than eternally grateful to this angel in platform heels.


	15. Chapter 14- I Am Not What Happened to Me, I Am What I Choose to Become.

Chapter 14

"Frank?"

Frank heard someone calling his name; he heard it through the dense water pulling him under, away from conscious thought. It was a woman, this much he knew, it was someone he knew, the faint recollection of the sound rang through his stomach and his brain, like an alarm bell.

He frowned, his brain trying to swim through the cement that was hardening around him far too fast. He saw a hand and he grabbed it, remembering the bright red manicure. He was suddenly yanked from his subconscious and into the world with a burst. He shot up; unaware he had been lying down. It was dark; it was night time, that was obvious even if he didn't know the exact time. But he wasn't alone.

That's what worried him.

He heard the heaviest of breathing beside him, but it wasn't out of breath panting. It was gasping for oxygen, oxygen their body was not receiving. Frank spun around in the dark on his cot, when he saw a figure laying against the wall on his cot.

A woman.

Naked.

Dark blood spattered the wall in a horrendously beautiful pattern of terror. Frank was washed with sudden cold when he realised this naked figure beside him was the one person he had needed throughout, even if he didn't notice it as much as he should have.

"Lindsey?" Frank sputtered, turning in the cot, sitting to face her, unaware that he, too, was completely naked. He didn't want to think of the reason why, he couldn't think of the reason.

He didn't remember.

The last thing he remembered was sitting on the floor with her spooning grey oatmeal into his greedy mouth. He didn't remember kissing her, he didn't remember anything until-

"So how have you been?" Frank croaked, wallowing the oatmeal.

"Been better, that's for sure, and you?" she asked scraping another helping into the spoon with a small, low scrape.

"What do you think?" Frank chuckled darkly and looked up at Lindsey beside him as she fed him the spoonful with a smile on her painted lips.

"Y'know.." she sighed, setting the empty bowl down on the tray before she crossed her legs comfortably beside him and placed her briefcase in her lap, snapping the metal clasps up and opening the sleek leather case, "I spoke to the judge about your temporary psychosis."

"Yeah?" Frank asked.

"It doesn't look too good. I mean I doubt you'd end up in a federal prison, you aren't mentally able.. But you won't be walking free, I am trying, Frank. I'm trying my best because I believe you.. But.." she looked down, a frown set in her perfect brows.

"I get it." Frank sighed softly, looking at his hands in his lap, "I get it, I just- I'll be okay with being in here, I have nothing on the outside for me anymore. But it doesn't mean I'm going to miss certain things."

"Certain things?"

"I'll have fresh air in the courtyard, I'll have friends with some of these lunatics, but I'll miss the close company, the freedom, the choices, and the wide world around me. Comfort.."

"Oh Frank.." she whispered softly and Frank shrugged.

"I'll be fine, I'm getting used to it."

"I know you wouldn't have done what you did if you had the choice, I can see it in your eyes, Frank. You love. It's who you are, you don't live in violence and bloodshed."

"I have to live with it now, don't I?"

"But just because of that, I don't want you to think you don't deserve love, Frank. Even the worst of monsters find love in the end.. Look at Frankenstein."

Frank looked up with a quirked eyebrow, "You really think that?"

He knew the gesture was sweet, even if he didn't necessarily believe it himself, he felt it heart-warming that she cared so much for someone like him.

"Of course I did."

"Lindsey?"

'Yes?"

"I want to tell you something." He looked down at his lap, "And I want to tell you this in complete confidence as my friend, not my lawyer.. Can I trust you with this?"

"Frank.." she began, the uncertainty clear in her voice.

"Please?" Frank looked up.

"Fine.." she sighed and set the briefcase down beside her, snapping it shut with her hand.

"I- I was talking to one of the doctors, Dr. Marten I believe. And he said it's likely the fire is a trigger for my psychotic break. I did know this already and I think you did too."

"I had a hunch.." She replied simply.

"And he asked me if there was anything triggering in my life that involved fire.. And.. At first I didn't remember anything, but- then- then I remembered. But I didn't tell him.. I couldn't.."

"What was it?"

"I was 5 years old.." Frank began, "And I remember my parents fighting all the time, it was a constant soundtrack in my house. I would hide in my closet and listen to them scream and shout at each other. I hated it, I always have, I hate confrontation even now.. I never fought with my wife, we argued, but if it ever got too heated I would always leave.. I had to calm down first and then go back and talk, or I would start to panic.. Like- almost like an anxiety attack."

"Right.." Lindsey replied, listening intently to Frank, who looked up, the corner of his mouth pulled down.

"And then one day they sat me down, I remember it was my birthday, it was on Halloween, my 6th birthday.. They sat me down and explained to me that they wouldn't be living together anymore, I mean I didn't understand they were getting divorced, but it still upset me. I was so angry and sad and confused. I hated it, and I kept telling them they weren't allowed to, that my dad wasn't allowed to leave. And I remember- oh god I remember him telling me I'm staying with my mother and he was going to stay somewhere else.. He tried to reassure me I'd still see him.."

"And?"

"And he said he was leaving in the morning, so he wouldn't leave on my birthday. And I ran upstairs and hid in my room watching the gremlins." A small smile etched onto Frank's thin lips before it disappeared just as quickly, "And I remember waking up, it must have been around 1am or somewhere there and I decided... I decided that if I can't have my parents together for myself, that they weren't going to have the option of leaving ever again.."

"Frank... Wh- What are you saying?" Lindsey's voice was shaking, and Frank almost sensed the fear in it, radiating off of her like Parisian perfume, but he continued his confession.

"I poured the gallon of oil into the pot on the stove and turned it on, I knew oil never worked with flame it worked with heat, and it would be easy to cover up, I mean its oil. And I waited, I sat on the floor and watched the smoke before I got up and poured the rest of the oil around the house and around their bed and.. And by the time I got downstairs it was on fire. And I stood there and watched it- I was okay with dying.. I was sure I was going to go with my parents, and I didn't fight it- something inside me kept repeating that this way we'd be together forever. And I watched the flames go down the hall, their bedroom being downstairs next to the television room.. I mean it was a one bedroom house and the attic was my nursery because they couldn't afford a bigger house, so it didn't even really have an upstairs, of which I was glad.."

"Fuck.." Lindsey whimpered, but Frank only continued, as if he were in a trance, unable to hear her, his mind replaying the flames, the excitement of the entire night, the way the flames danced, destroying and creating destruction in its wake.

"I could hear their screams, I could hear them crying out, but I had locked the door, I had heard the flames knock out the windows and I knew they would be blocked. The smoke was beginning to make me dizzy and I made my way into my room and closed the door and lay down, I waited, and I must have passed out. I woke up in someone's arms, I was so confused, but later on I realised I missed the oil in my own room. They never knew it was me, they had no idea, I was 6, it couldn't be me.. They thought it may have been an arsonist, someone who bore a grudge against my parents.. But they never expected me, and I kept that secret until now.. And.. I forgot eventually.. The flames.. The.. Fire.. They danced, it was like drums, dancing to their own erotic beat.. The colours were so vibrant, the heat on my skin."

Frank looked over at Lindsey, his ears ringing with their white noise and static, his heart beat racing at a pace almost inhuman, when he lunged at her, pinning her to the ground-

Frank let out a whimper and scrambled closer, "Lindsey?"

"F- F.." she gasped, the blood gushing from the wound in her throat, Frank let out a whine of fear and picked her up, she stared up at him, her eyes were wide and watery, and she raised her hand to his cheek, brushing the slight stubble of his cheek before it fell back down and the glistening light of her brown eyes faded almost like it were in a movie.

Frank lay her back down and grabbed his pants, pulling them on before he ran to the door, surprised to see it and the gate were open. He ran, barefoot and frantic, down the dimly lit hallway and burst into the dining hall. There was sudden silence when he was faced with every single one of the patients sitting at the tables eating. They all stopped their conversations and their eating and looked up at him in surprise.

He caught their alarmed expressions when he realised his hands were covering in blood, smeared and dripping onto his pants that hung over his feet.

"Frank?" Brendon asked carefully, evidently worried as he stood up, but Ryan took a hold of his hand and held him back with a warning glance.

"I- I didn't.. I mean- I don't.." Frank was frantic, when he caught sight of the nurses coming toward him. He let out a simper and backed away from them, towards the serving counter. His back hit the counter suddenly and he backed against it.

"Leave him!" Pete yelled, but they ignored him.

"Frank.. Come with us.." The one nurse countered and Frank stared at him for a moment and shook his head.

"Frank!" Brendon yelled as Frank suddenly hopped up onto the counter, picking up the entire galvanised pot of off oatmeal and throwing it in the direction of the nurses. That pot must have weighed more than double Frank, but he didn't care of the improbability now. He watched the oatmeal splatter all four nurses, and the pot itself land on one of them, sending him crashing to the ground. The nurses bent down to help their colleague as Frank skipped over the counter, noticing the pot was on a warmer.

He looked up at the nurses who were advancing, and at everyone watching him not 10 feet away.

"Run.." he whispered to his friends as he picked up the gas warmer and looked at them, "Please.. Run.." he said again as his 3 friends scrambled up and ran out into the courtyard, closing the doors as one or two other patients, the more competent ones, managed to get out. Frank raised the gas warmer up above his head as a dozen of the heavy-armed nurses cornered him.

He looked at them once more, then over at his friends peeking through the glass door before he threw the gas warmer down onto the heated plate.

The entire area erupted into a galleon of flames, an enormous explosion that knocked some of the staff backwards. But Frank could only stare at it, his mind falling back into the primordial black ooze of his inner psycho.

He remembered crouching low to the ground and waiting, before he lunged over the flames at the nurses at a blinding speed, an inhuman pace.

And then nothing.


	16. Chapter 15- Between Flattery and Admiration, Often Flows a River of Contempt

Chapter 15

"Frank Iero!"

The voice boomed through the enormous eating hall, but Frank remained hidden, he refused to come down. He knew he was still in his unstable state, but he was seeing clearly, he was remembering.

He was finally in control.

Frank let out a guttural snarl and glared down at the guards and the doctors from his crouched perch in the steel rafters.

He remained completely balanced, crouching on the dusty steel banister that was raised high above the ground. Frank surveyed the scene, the blood spilling to the ground from the dozens of bodies he had slaughtered. Every single nurse and every single patient that never made it out of the hall were all dead, all by Frank's hands.

And he loved it, he bathed in it, he revelled in the thought that he had caused such utter devastation with his bare hands.

He felt nothing for any of them, he felt no guilt or remorse for the slain victims, their darkened blood staining the floors slowly, pooling together in a disgusting mix.

Frank looked from the bodies to the doctors all stood in a tightly knit circle at the door, with Dr. Brighton looking right at him.

"Frank, come down here." He said firmly and Frank let out another deep, threatening growl, his bloodied hands hanging between his opened legs, his head tilted to the side as he observed them.

"Frank, come down here now."

Frank felt no need to talk, perhaps his normal, more rational self would have said something, would have tried to apologise, but he didn't want to, not at all. He felt no need to speak. Frank raised his hand and flipped them off before cackling wildly and standing up, running across the banister before hopping over to the next one like a lean, predatory animal stalking prey. He crawled along the banister and crouched down, closer to the huddled group of staff, a wide and menacing grin on his face.

He heard one of the female doctors whimper in fear and he cocked and eyebrow, the grin widening slightly as he snapped is teeth in her direction. She let out a soft, almost silent scream, and looked away.

Frank remained where he was, when he decided to finally speak, "Or what, doc?"

"Sorry, what?" Dr. Brighton asked, taken aback by Frank's change of heart.

"You're threatening me to come down, so I ask.. Or. What. Doc?" Frank enunciated every word with a sharp pause, watching his surroundings vigilantly, aware.

"Or we take you down by force." The doctor stated and Frank let out a harsh bark of a laugh and stood up.

"Oh yeah, you and what army?" Frank gestured to the room, "I just massacred 112 people with my bare hands, what do you think you 5 are going to do?"

"What about your son, Frank? Do you honestly think he'd want to see you like this?"

"That's your best shot?" Frank spat, "That's the best you had, playing the guilt card, I don't give a shit, old man! I don't care! I'm glad I killed the snotty nosed brat! I'm glad I killed them all! I did it, didn't I?"

"Get down from there, Frank!" the doctor yelled, "You need help."

"Oh no.." Frank crouched back down, looking at each one, "You are the ones who need help.."

"We've called in some people to help you, Frank."

"Uh-huh." Frank merely replied, completely uninterested.

"They can help you.."

"But," Frank stood up and looked down at the one storey drop from the rafters to the ground before he stepped off, landing lightly on the floor in a stoop, his knee on the ground, hunkered from the landing. But he stood up, slowly, sinuously, and made his way closer, "But can they help you?"

"We don't need help, Frank.."

Frank let out a chuckle and ran his tongue over his top teeth, "Oh I beg to differ."

"They'll be here soon." Brighton stated as Frank began to walk around the group of staff, eyeing each one until he stopped in front of Dr. Marten. He looked up at him and pursed his lips.

"How goes it, Hitler?"

Dr. Marten scoffed indignantly, "How dare you-"

The doctor was cut off as Frank reached out, as quick as lighting, and snapped his neck, the tall Arian man falling, crumpling to a heap on the ground. The female doctor let out a panicked scream of terror and Frank rushed her, stomping his foot in front of her with a snap of his teeth. He screamed again in fright and he laughed, cackling loudly.

"It seems your fortress is weak, doctor." Frank continued circling them before he stopped, smiling at Brighton.

"If there is anyone who is weak, Frank. It is you." The doctor said and Frank let out a sharp cackle of indignation.

"Weak? Weak?! I'm weak? Would you like to fucking see weak! I'll fucking show you weak! C'mere sunshine!" Frank grabbed the female doctor from the group, even through their fruitless attempts to hold her.

"Do you want to see weak, huh?" Frank grinned, his eyes glinting as though in the sun.

"You are a psychopath, Frank!" Brighton said and Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, and how so?" Frank held the woman against him, her back against his front with his arm pressing around her neck, his other hand gripping the top of her head, ready to snap.

"There are 19 subtle signs of a psychopath, Frank, both you and your softer exterior exhibit these signs, you need help or you're going to end up in some bad places."

"Oh like this hell?"

"We were trying to help you."

"By starving me and leaving me to die?!" Frank roared, pulling on the woman's hair and making her cry out.

"It was a test, Frank, pushing your limits, seeing if desperation brought out your anger. We had your door open all the time, but you didn't try."

Frank was quiet for a moment, chewing lazily on these words exchanged, "Oh yeah, okay then, whatever you say, now how, Doctor fucking Brighton, am I a psychopath. Please, enlighten me with your fantastic knowledge of the person you barely know."

"Psychopaths have a hardened exterior with a boyish innocence, they pretend to be tough, but they come across like a child."

"I am not a child!"

"They embody incongruity," the doctor stated, ignoring the outburst, "they always contradict themselves whether it's right away or a different opinion over a week or so."

"I do not-.."

"They exude a subtle air of confidence and superiority."

"Well, look at you and look at me." Frank spat, his chest inflating with anger.

"They enjoy sharing unsavoury things about their past to make themselves seem tougher." Frank winced but remained silent as the doctor continued, "They need very little sleep, they are constantly on the lookout for excitement and find it easier to function on little sleep.

"I'm not an insomniac!" Frank hissed.

"I never said you were, I'm stating facts," The doctor replied rashly and continued, "They sometimes exhibit unconvincing emotional responses."

"What?"

"Psychopaths may sometimes come across as genuine in their emotion, but more often than not their displays of emotion are slightly... Off, or even over-exaggerated. This includes facial expressions."

"Oh.." Frank nodded slowly.

"They can go from rage to calm and back in an instant."

"I don't have anger issues!"

"Frank.." Brighton held up a hand, "No one is pointing you out, I'm giving you your answer, you wanted to know.."

"Fine.."

"They drop hints of their true nature, but in a veiled manner.."

"How so?" Frank turned up his nose, tugging again on the girls hair, making her gasp in pain and wince.

"For example, if a psychopath is trusting in a person, they will often be like, 'Oh you're really easy to fool because you're too trusting' or 'you need to be careful, the devil can present himself as one of our best of friends.'"

Frank remained silent, watching, alert of the surroundings, watching everyone and everything, including the small fire still flickering on the gas warmer. One glance at it made his blood boil and he took in a deep breath and tilted his head to the side, "Go on, why would a psychopath do something like that?"

"They take great joy in fooling and duping those around them, in manipulating them. It delights them to know they have control."

"What else?" Frank hissed.

"They have quick flashes of contempt. You may notice when you speak or look at a psychopath, their face often gives away small glimmers of disdain and dislike. Contempt is defined as the feeling that a person is beneath consideration, worthless or deserving of scorn. Have you ever looked at a person, Frank, and just felt as though they're far too stupid to even deserve your attention."

"All the damn time." Frank spat and the doctor nodded before continuing his list.

"They have deviant sexual desires and want to fulfil them whether the other person wants to or not." The doctor eyed Frank, who glared at him, but remained stony, with his grip on the woman still iron-fast, "They also, interestingly enough, have a poor sense of smell."

"You're just making shit up now."

"I am not, studies have shown-"

"Studies have shown- blah, blah, blah."

"Listen to me, it's a proven fact."

"You know I have allergies and that's why!" Frank glared.

"Studies have shown that people who score high on psychopathic tests often have struggles with identifying smells and are unable to tell the difference between smells."

"Why?"

"A psychopath's brain is different to a normal human being, there is something missing, a hormonal imbalance, something they weren't born with, and it's that imbalance that affects the same part of their brain that affects olfactory senses."

Frank huffed softly, mumbling about his allergies, when the doctor chose that as a sign to continue, "Their speech is filled with disfluencies."

"Dif- what?"

"That."

"What?"

"They break their sentences up a lot with 'like' or 'uh' or 'um'. It is unclear why, but even if no other word is used, and they merely pause in their sentences, it is most likely because they are trying harder to make a positive impression, needing more mental effort and time to frame a story."

"I don't have disflu..encies!" Frank yanked harshly at the doctor's hair, pulling out a large clump that had her crying out in excruciating agony. Frank glanced at the hair still attached to a small section of scalp and threw it to the ground with an expression of disgust. The doctor had now begun to sob loudly, and it was clearly getting on Frank's last nerve.

"A psychopath cannot describe a proper emotion or their experience of one."

"I can!"

"How?"

"I- Frank- He- We loved his wife."

"Did you?"

"Did I?" Frank pulled his lip up at the question.

"Yes."

"No." he answered flatly, "I may have thought it was love, but I never love. I don't love anyone."

"Describe love." The doctor countered and Frank opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came to mind. He filled with rage and let out a scream. With a flick of the wrist, the room was filled with a deafening crack, the female doctor fell to the floor at Frank's feet, coiled and crumpled. Frank kicked her aside and grabbed the doctor by the collar.

"You go on then! You have, you have more to say!" he spat furiously in Brighton's face, and Brighton flinched and looked away, before Frank shook him angrily.

"P- Psychopaths have a reduced startle response. They do indeed get a fright, but it is much less than a normal functioning human being."

"I've gotten a fright before!" Frank spat.

"In this state?" the doctor asked and Frank faltered, letting go of the doctor before he began to pace, "Some psychopaths participate in dangerous activities or sports because they enjoy the thrill."

"I do not!"

"What about having sex in public places, extreme sports, cheating on your wife, shoplifting?"

Frank ignored the question and continued to pace angrily, every once in a while kicking the limp body of the female doctor out of sheer frustration that he was being put into such a disgustingly defined label.

"They enjoy invading personal space." The doctor said.

"What else?"

"They have an eerily calm demeanour in times of great stress."

Frank smiled, "You've got me there."

"I know." The doctor nodded, "They have little to no body odour."

"What?"

"A psychopath, this fact is purely anecdotal, as many shower far too frequently to keep themselves presentable, sometimes changing clothes more than 5 times a day."

"That's a neat freak, a germaphobe."

"Studies show, Frank.."

"Anything else."

"Not that I remember." The doctor said honestly and Frank nodded, his brain feeling heavy.

"Unfortunate.

"Why?"

"Well, now you are of no use to me.. Now you have to die."

Frank smiled as he watched the horror fill their eyes as he lunged for the remaining four doctors, his mind still creating the static fuzz, the slight ounce of control slipping.


	17. Chapter 16- Take Me Away, 'Cause I Don't Wanna Lose it All.

Chapter 16

Frank had remained where he was for quite some time, surrounded by the damage he had caused, and yet, yet he was feeling very differently about what he had done. At first he did it, he felt nothing, they were just objects blocking his path.

But now, as he sat on the bloodied linoleum with his legs crossed, observing everything. He was beginning to feel remorse for his actions, the fast pace in his chest and the beating in his ears had been pushed down again and he had taken control over his most hated side.

But now he was back, although he was able to remember what he has done in his altered state, he had no control over bringing it up or pushing it down, it had control over him as much as he didn't want to admit it.

"Frank?"

Frank heard the door open slowly, and he didn't move. He didn't know who would be calling on him at this hour, and he didn't care.

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to help." He heard a voice behind him at the door.

"How?"

"I'm going to take you away from here, Frank. To a place where you can be yourself and where you can belong."

"Oh yeah another madhouse?"

"No, Frank."

"Then where?"

"I don't know how to explain, but I'm taking you, whether you let me or by force."

Frank spun on the floor to face the man at the door he was tall, his skin was a light brown, with a thick head of caramel curls. His plain black attire suited him most.

"What's your name, since you know mine."

"My name is Ray.."

"Hi Ray."

"Did you do all of this?"

"I did."

"By yourself?"

"Yes."

"I see, did anyone survive."

"My friends are outside in the courtyard."

"Who are your friends?"

"Pete, Ryan and Brendon."

"Can we go in and get them, Frank?"

"Why are you asking me?" Frank tilted his head, his hands resting on his knees.

"Because you're in charge here, Frank. You're calling the shots on everything."

"Go ahead." Frank gestured to the door on the side and looked down, he heard multiple footsteps and caught sight of feet running to the door in his periphery. The door was unlocked and there were screams and cries and yells of his name.

Frank looked up and saw a tear stained Ryan staring at him with his hands over his mouth, with Brendon looking just as upset and Pete looking rather happy. Frank looked down again as his friends were escorted out.

"Brendon." Frank called out and Brendon stopped in his tracks, the men in the uniforms stopped with Brendon.

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Frank replied simply as they all walked out, before Ryan stopped nearby and walked over.

"Frank?" Ryan whispered quietly.

"What do you want, kid?"

"I want you to know that you were never alone.. And you never will be." Ryan crouched down and reached around his neck before he pulled off a simple chain. Ryan picked up Frank's hand and held it palm up before slowly laying the chain in Frank's hand and closing his fist around it.

"What's this for?" Frank opened his hand and looked at the silver chain and then up at Ryan with a puzzled expression.

"Keep it.." Ryan said with a placid demeanour before he stood up and left behind everyone else.

Frank held on to the locket before he stood up and looked at Ray who was standing nearby, "You're going to take me away."

"Yes we are, you can't stay here."

"I'll go with you on one condition." Frank said.

"And that is?"

"I have to fetch one thing from my room."

"I'll have to say no, you can't leave, but I can send someone to get it for you. What is it?"

"My room is down that hall, right at the end of the corridor, the one with the gate. And.. And I'd appreciate it if you could retrieve my son's stuffed bear."

Ray recalled the information to one of the other men, who walked across the hall and through the door. Frank walked over to Ray and looked up at him, holding his wrists out as though bound by imaginary handcuffs.

Ray looked at Frank's outstretched hands as a small smile played on his lips.

"Here." The other man, dressed the same as Ray, held out the brown bear. Ray took it as Frank reached out, and they caught each other's gaze momentarily before Frank suddenly felt a pinch in his neck. He felt his knees suddenly give in, his momentary paralysis caused by the needle sticking out of the side of his jugular. He couldn't help but frown as he felt himself falling into a drugged unconsciousness.

~

Sea salt.

Where the hell was he?

The ocean was what he definitely smelled, the heady sea salt smell hitting his heightened nose. He had something over his eyes, his head was swimming and he knew he had only recently woken from his drugged sleep. He could tell they were on a boat of sorts, he could feel the vessel pushing against the ebb and flow of the water, pushing through the sea like a god.

"Frank, are you awake?"

Frank let out a low groan as the blindfold was pulled from his eyes, "What exactly was the point of all of this?"

"We sedated you so that you wouldn't know where you were being taken." Ray replied, sitting across from Frank with his leg pulled smartly over the other, his hands clasped on his knee.

"The middle of god damn motherfucking nowhere." Frank replied as he looked out of the window, his cuffed hands resting behind his back, his elbows cuffed together, his ankles shackled, his mouth covered by a half mask, "We certainly took all of the precautions, didn't we, Ray?"

"Necessary precautions, Frank. You and I both know this."

"So, where exactly am I being shipped off to, the YMCA?"

Ray let out a soft chuckle, "If you want to call it that, sure, but it most certainly isn't."

"Aw damn." Frank sighed sarcastically and looked out of the window, "So wherever I'm going, will I be able to see it from here?"

"Actually yes." Ray replied and leaned forward, pointing. Frank craned his neck, turning in his seat.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Frank whispered as he caught sight of their destination.

It was a tall building reaching into the sky, its walls were depressingly dark, the entire place resting on a tiny island. The whole thing seemed to be brick, surrounded by mile high walls of the same material.

"It looks like Azkaban." Frank whispered.

"Like what?"

"Azkaban.. Harry Potter."

"Oh, I haven't seen what you're talking about."

"How?"

"I don't get out much, Frank. This place we're heading to, it's my home."

"For how long?"

"I was born there?"

"In a prison?"

"It isn't a prison."

"Sure looks like one."

"It isn't.."

"So what is it then?"

"You'll be briefed when we get there."

"Azkaban here we come.." Frank sighed as the water began to get choppier, the waves higher and so much more rough than it had been, "What, uh, what's the time?"

"It's almost 2am." Ray replied and Frank nodded as the boat came to a stop. Ray stood up and walked off as Frank was pulled to his feet and escorted rather rudely from the boat and onto the dock, the high cement pillars keep him at least 2 storeys from the deathly black water below. They walked for what seemed like ages until a large iron gate began to rise up, letting them in, the gate itself must have been at least 4 storey's high and a dozen feet thick. The walls, as Frank got closer, could easily have been 20 storeys high, and the most intimidating part was that the walls weren't even half way up the building. It was monstrous, it was frightening.

They walked in to the courtyard of the building and Frank could see the scaled building with its tiny door drawing closer, tall and masculine guards roaming around with weapons that Frank hadn't even dreamed of as a little boy. The one or two that he passed seemed to glare at him as though they knew of his transgressions in the past.

It unnerved Frank, but he kept his face expressionless, his demeanour cool and icy. He wouldn't let them get to him, not yet, not now.

They walked into the building and Frank was hit by the sudden warmth of the entire building. And the darkness. The inside of the building, or from what Frank could see, looked like a castle, the floors and walls were all stone, the light provided was torches on the walls, even if it was electricity and not fire. The narrow passageway opened up and split into two passages going in opposite directions, the middle of the building was hollow and Frank assumed it went that way all the way up.

Although it seemed like they were on the ground floor, the middle of the room had been hollowed out and disappeared beneath them, clouded by a criss-crossed fence that Frank assumed also went up all the way, as a safety measure so that no one could fall over the edge.

"So now what?"

"So now, you get to meet the Superior."

"Sounds fancy." Frank rolled his eyes as he was pushed down the left corridor and into one of the oldest looking metal-crossed elevators Frank had ever seen. Ray pushed a button in and turned a handle and the elevator began to go up, at a faster speed than Frank had pre-empted.

They made their way to the top and Frank had counted the floors, there were 60 floors as far as he had counted as they went up, 60 fucking floors of solid stone surrounded by miles of ocean.

"Perfect." Frank whispered to himself and Ray turned to look at him when they stopped.

"I'm not going in, but they're waiting for you. Good luck." Ray said as he opened the creaking gate.

Frank thought about running, he thought about trying to run back out and to the boat, but he knew his efforts would be in vain, futile at best. So he let out a sigh and walked out, walking towards the large wooden door. He turned to look back just as Ray closed the elevator gate and began to descend.

"How the fuck must I knock?" Frank asked himself as he tried to pull at his elbow restraints when the door suddenly opened in front of him. Frank let out a long breath and peered in.

He was pleasantly surprised to see the walls painted white, the floor was carpeted in a pale beige, a large dark wood desk stood a few feet from the back of the large room. Frank stepped on and closed the door with his back before stepping forward. There was a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the wall to his left was just books, a long shelf taking up the entire thing.

"Hello?"

"Welcome." A cool voice greeted and Frank turned, frowning as he looked for who would be talking to him.

"Uh..."

"Pleasure to meet you, Frank." Frank saw a man walk into the room from god knows where. He was tall, dressed in a firmly fitted black suit. His hair was salt and pepper, once black but now greying with age, it suited him.

"And uh, you are?"

"I run this place, my name is Leo."

"Good for you." Frank replied simply.

"Welcome to Castellum Mortis."

"What what?"

"Castellum Mortis, Frank. The Fort of Death."

"That's comforting.." Frank managed as Leo sat down in his chair behind the desk and steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the hard, wood surface, "Sit."

"I'm fine."

"Do you know what we do here?"

"How would I know?" Frank asked in blatant annoyance.

"True, fair point."

"Well... We- or I- I run this fine institution myself. It's all of the worst people that walk this earth. The meanest, most ruthless criminals that no one else wants. The people that don't belong in society, that everyone fears in their worst dreams."

"Oh yeah and that's supposedly me?"

"Frank you've killed almost 120 people in the space of a month."

"Right.." Frank nodded and let the pretentious anus continue his explanation.

"And I'm pretty excited to have you in my collection."

"Who says I want to be?"

"Who says you have a choice?" the guy countered and Frank scoffed.

"So what exactly is this place?"

"It's a chance at life."

"How?"

"It comes with a price, Frank."

"Oh and then?" Frank raised an eyebrow, feigning piqued interest.

"You fight, Frank."

"I'm sorry."

"Start off small, and you fight to the death, you win, you move up a level to someone stronger, your room you stay in goes up higher on another floor, you get more freedom, more luxuries. You beat them, you go up again."

"So you just fight?"

"To the death."

"With what, my bare hands?"

"You get a table of all sorts of weapons to use as you wish, even the table."

"Right.. And when I get to the top floor and I kill the last guy?"

"You win your freedom, your record gets cleaned completely, no history of anything, you get relocated to somewhere new and you start again."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"Anyone ever make it?"

"We let one out once a year."

"Right. And what if I don't want to fight, you cant force me, you have nothing against me."

"You're right, I don't. but why wouldn't you want to?"

"Dying is a good reason." Frank snorted and Leo leaned back in his chair.

"Then fight well and you wont die."

"You make it sound so easy."

"The first fight always is."

"Fine." Frank sighed, "Fine, I'll do it. What else do I have, its not like I'm waiting for my family on the outside."

"Good, good..." Leo trailed off, "Oh and.. Each fighter has a healer, their own healer who has been trained to heal any and all wounds. One for each fighter."

"Yay for me."

"And here he is." Leo extended a hand and Frank turned to see a frightfully skinny teenage boy with stringy black hair slide into the room, his eyes cast down.

"Frank, meet Gerard, your healer."

Frank took the boy in a second glance, his skin was pale, draped over his bones, his pale lips pursed, his hair falling forward over his eyes, his hands behind his back. He wore a simple black jumpsuit made of linen the soft material hung on him, the first two buttons undone over the planes of his chest, the sleeves ending at his elbows.

"Hi there." Frank looked over at the shy boy who nodded.

"Gerard, say hi." Leo said pointedly and Gerard visibly flinched before looking up and locking eyes with Frank, who raised a pointed eyebrow.

"Hi, Master." Gerard replied with a soft voice.

"D- Don't call me that, my name is Frank."

Gerard seemed suddenly distressed at this and looked at Leo, who smiled.

"You do as he says, Gerard, even if you don't call him one, he is your master."

"I just.. I'm not.. I don't like it.." Frank replied simply and Leo nodded understandingly.

"Gerard, show Frank to his room." Leo said and Frank turned to Gerard, who opened the door for him and let him walk out before following submissively, walking with his head down.


	18. Chapter 17- How Could You Rise Anew if You Have Not First Become Ashes?

Chapter 17

"I don't think I'm doing this anymore."

"You haven't fought yet." Gerard replied, looking down at Frank.

Frank lay in the high-backed claw foot bathtub and looked up at the ceiling, his arms resting on either side of the bath.

"I know I haven't, I just..." Frank sighed and ran a wet hand over his beard that had grown over his slightly chubby cheeks, the bristly feeling and scratchy sound filling him with unhappy contempt.

"I should shave." Frank sighed, "I didn't realise it had grown so much."

"I'll send for a blade and some shaving cream, master?" Gerard asked with an upward questioned inflection.

"Sure, please.." Frank frowned, looking down at his body, even if he wasn't as fit as he used to be when he was younger, he was by no means fat or unfit. He had excess weight, he had muscle that was toned but hidden. He didn't mind as much as he used to, to say the least, he had become comfortable with himself over the past few months.

Gerard appeared again a few minutes later with a small leather spiral in his hands. He looked at Frank and pulled the jug table closer, resting the leather spiral on it before undoing the clasp and letting the whole thing unfurl. Frank peered inquisitively at the instruments. He saw an old-looking, but still sharp, shaving blade, folded up neatly in its bind next to a thickset brush with a round handle. Gerard then set a bowl filled with shaving cream down next to it and looked at Frank.

"May I?"

"May you what, shave me?" Frank asked, taken aback.

"Yes master." Gerard looked down at his feet.

"Jesus Christ." Frank looked at Gerard, "I don't know..."

"I- I've done it before. I do it all the time."

"Not to your own face, you're fucking twelve.." Frank raised an eyebrow and Gerard looked up indignantly, his chest rising.

"I- I'm not!"

"How old are you then, kid?"

"I'm 23.."

"Christ.. You genuinely look 17.." Frank raised is eyebrow again and Gerard looked down, his greasy hair falling like a long, unruly curtain in front of his pixie-like features.

"I'm nt.."

"Okay.. Calm down.." Frank sat up slightly in the bath, "Can you really do it?"

"Yes, master.."

"Okay then do it.. But one nick and I'll choke you out.." Frank warned jokingly and Gerard looked up with wide, pale eyes.

"N- No.. Please.. D- Don't.. I.."

"Hey, hey.." Frank frowned and looked up at Gerard, who seemed to be trembling in fear, "I- I won't.. I was joki- Hang on.." Frank tilted his head to the side, "Are you afraid of me?"

"Don't... Please.. Don't choke me.." Gerard whispered.

"I wouldn't.. I.. Why would you think I was serious?"

"My previous master.. He would punish me if I did wrong." Gerard whimpered.

"Wh- I wouldn't do that.. That's fucking shit, kid.. I'm sorry, I didn't know.." Frank's mouth turned down slightly and Gerard looked up and seemed to glaze over, his face heading back into an expression of normalcy.

"Can I start now sir?"

"Should I get out of the bath?"

"N- No.." Gerard began, "Unless you want to, sir."

"What would be easier?"

"If you stayed in the bath, sir."

"Then I'll stay, but if I catch you looking at my dick again there will be consequences." Frank mused, watching Gerard's cheeks flush an angry red.

"I- I wasn't.. I mean.." Gerard sighed, "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Are you messing with me again?"

"I believe I was.." Frank chuckled and lay back, hearing Gerard huff as he picked up a black cloth and lay it over Frank's damp chest, tucking slightly under his neck.

"Master is humorous.." Gerard whispered, picking up the brush and lathering it in the cream before he leaned down and began to spread it slowly over Frank's facial hair, "Am I shaving it all off or do you want to keep some of it, sir?"

"What do you think?" Frank eyed him.

"You- You're asking my opinion?"

"Yes I am." Frank smiled slightly and Gerard frowned before he stared at Frank's face for a long time.

"I think.." Gerard hesitantly reached down and ran his finger over Frank's top lip, "Keep this.. And," his fingers trailed down just over Franks jaw before he pulled away, "Keep that, and let the rest grow out, you can always trim it if you don't like it."

"Well go on then, let me see." Frank stated and Gerard merely nodded and continued smearing the thick cream with the short, bristly brush.

"Master?"

"Yes?" Frank asked as Gerard picked up the blade and opened it, before he pulled out a thick leather strap and ran the blade over the leather swiftly, sharpening it.

"What did you do?"

"You mean to get in here?" Frank asked and Gerard nodded, holding the shiny blade up to face level, inspecting it, "I killed a lot of people."

"How many?" Gerard walked closer and leaned over Frank's face, tilting it with his finger. There was a pause between both of them, Frank's heart beating steadily as his breath was held captive in his chest.

Frank let out a breath as the blade ran over his face, the scraping sound filling the room for a second as Gerard ran it smooth over his cheek, wiping the cream on the black cloth, "I killed 120 people."

"All by yourself?" Gerard asked, running the blade down the next line over Frank's cheek.

"All by myself." Frank repeated, his eyes carefully watching the blade.

"How?" Gerard wiped the blade again, tilting Frank's face to the side and shaving beneath his sideburns and along his jaw.

"If I knew, kid. I'd tell you.." Frank sighed

"I don't understand?" Gerard frowned and let go of Frank's jaw to look at him momentarily, frowning, before he leaned forward and tilted Frank's head back, running the blade over the dip between his chin and his lower lip with accurate precision.

"I seem to have some sort of temporary psychosis that's triggered by fire.. And I go into kill mode and rip things apart with my bare hands.." Frank stated simply as Gerard turned his head the other way and began on that side, shaving beneath his sideburns again before wiping.

"No really, sir. I know of your jokes now." Gerard smiled, running the blade up Frank's cheek.

"I'm not joking this time, kid." Frank looked sideways at the younger boy, whose eyes widened.

"You're not?" Gerard sputtered softly and Frank shook his head.

"Nope.."

"O- Oh.." Gerard seemed at a loss for words as he lifted Frank's chin up and set the blade on his throat before slowly, carefully, pulling it up, flush with Frank's skin. Frank couldn't help but swallow hard as the cold metal met his jugular, it would make any man's hands twitch in slight unease.

One swipe later and Gerard set the blade down, picking the cloth up as Frank sat up and cupped his hands in the bathwater, washing away the excess shaving cream as he splashed his face. He wiped his eyes and looked up at Gerard, blinking, who then handed him a small hand mirror to inspect his work.

Frank angled his face left, right, taking in all of the angles of his cleanly-shaved face. It had been a while since.

"I like this.." Frank stated as he ran his fingers over the hair on his top lip.

"It suits you, sir."

"Thanks, kid." Frank handed back the mirror, "I think I'm getting out now."

Gerard turned and handed Frank a large grey towel as he stood up and climbed from the bathtub, he wrapped the towel around his waist and looked at the kid waiting at the door for him with his head cast down. Frank withheld a sigh and walked out of the dimly lit stone bathroom and into his bedroom, when he stopped and looked at it.

"I have a question?" Frank asked, turning to look at Gerard over his shoulder as he stood only a foot or so behind him.

"Yes, master?"

"Where do you sleep?"

"I sleep in there." Gerard pointed to a door that stood closed next to the bathroom door. Frank nodded simply and turned, looking at the jumpsuit that Gerard had lay on the bed for him with a clean black vest. He turned to look at Gerard when he was suddenly accosted by another towel over his face. He stumbled back with a low shriek but steadied himself as the towel ran over his chest and arms, Gerard drying him with deliberate, and somehow still awkward, speed.

"Hey, hey, hey.." Frank said again and Gerard froze, panting softly, when he looked up at Frank on his knees through his mane of hair.

"Sir?"

"You're my healer, not my slave.. I'm pretty sure I know how to dry myself. I have been doing it for 34 or so years."

"O- Oh.." Gerard blushed again in the dim light and stood up, "M- My apologies, I forget you're different to my previous master."

"Relax.." Frank said as he took his towel off and dried his legs before he picked up the jumpsuit and unzipped the front. He stepped into it and pulled it up to his waist. He pulled the vest on over his head and slid his arms through the holes before tucking it into the jumpsuit, leaving it hanging at his hips.

"Master?"

"Yeah, kid?" Frank asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Gerard pick the towel up and hang it.

"Are you straight or.. Or are you.. Gay?"

"Wh-?"

"Well when you fight and you win, you get your choice of a lover for the night, if you so wish.. And I was curious as to who it would be is all.. So I can tell the Warden."

"I'm straight.." Frank replied with a smile, oblivious to the crestfallen expression on Gerard's face that he quickly hid.

"Oh.. Uh, yeah same.. Right.." He breathed out and began to tidy around, even though the room had barely been used for a whole hour and nothing was really out of place, "Is master hungry? Thirsty?"

"Thirsty is accurate enough."

"You're only allowed water for now but.."

"As I go up, I get a better selection?" Frank interrupted and Gerard nodded, smiling, "Water is fine, kid."

"I'll be back now, sir." Gerard said as he picked up a jug and scurried off.

Frank let out a sigh and shook his head, watching the strange kid leave the room in a hurry. Something felt strange to Frank, and he just couldn't place it. Yes he was in a floating fucking castle in the middle of the fucking Pacific. Yes he was literally fighting for his freedom and he was probably going to die in the first round, no mistaking it. But that wasn't what was bugging him. What was bugging him the most was Gerard. This kid, barely even in his twenties, stuck on this god forsaken island healing grown men's wounds and cuts.

How did he, and the other healers, end up here in the first place?

Were they also criminals, but just less?

Or were they worse off?

Were they sent here?

All of the questions were burning the back of Frank's mind, more than anything, because even though Gerard seemed so accustomed to this hell, he didn't seem the type to fit in with the people here.

And it genuinely bugged him more than he wanted to admit, maybe he had a soft spot for the eccentric kid.


	19. Chapter 18- Those Who Do Not Remember the Past Are Forced to Repeat It.

Chapter 18

"What did you do?" someone screamed.

"What the fuck did you do?!" It was a blood-curling scream that tore through the noise.

Frank looked up, the tiny boy only aged 12, looked up and dropped the branch he had been holding. He was face to face with his foster mother, who was pale as a sheet and staring down at him.

Frank wouldn't reply.

He never did.

He was a mute child ever since he lost his parents in the fire 6 years back. No one had ever heard him say one word.

And now wasn't any exception.

It was his birthday, he was 13, it was Halloween and Frank had decided to dress up as a clown, wearing the mask he had bought from the dollar store and his mom's red pants tied with rope. Only when he was supposed to go out trick-or-treating with his sister Ronnie, she had decided to go out with her boyfriend, leaving him alone with the family cat.

Frank had never meant to hurt Molly, it was all an accident. He was playing with her and she fell. He never did anything. Never.

Frank was a good boy.

But if he was a good boy, why was he hurting animals?

Frank stared at his mother through the holes in his plastic mask, breathing as normally as he ever had.

"What the fuck did you fucking do?!" She screamed and Frank merely stared at her, tilting his head to the side.

Why was she shouting?

"Don't shout at me." He whispered hoarsely and she just stared at him, slack jawed.

This wasn't Frank's first time killing animals, no.

She grabbed Frank's bloodied hand and pulled him inside the house, shoving him into the bathroom to clean himself up.

But he stayed as he was for hours in the bathroom waiting for everyone to go to sleep.

He hated his mom for yelling.

She yelled.

All day.

Her and her husband always yelled at each other and Frank hated it.

And his sister who never cared for him at all.

They were bad.

Not Frank.

And he just wanted to be good.

So he did what he should. He made the bad people stop.

Frank snuck out of the bathroom that night and did what he knew would shut them all up, make them pay.

But he decided he was going to do something else first. He walked out of the front door and walked down the street and towards his house.

The boy who picked on him at school. Who threw him around and pushed him and yelled at him. Frank hated yelling.

~

Frank awoke in the back of a police car, sitting there as his hands dried with blood and police walked through his house, pulling out bodies. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew his family were in there, his bad, bad family.

But he never saw them again.

Good.

He never wanted to.

He was now in a place with all these people in a room he was never allowed to leave and he had to wear stupid white pajamas.

It was all stupid.

"Fuck you!" he screamed, banging on the door and pushing at it and clawing until his fingers began to bleed, "Let me out! I want to leave! Let me out!"

But Frank got to leave.

Only 5 years later he was able to leave.

But Frank wasn't the same anymore.

He was different.

He was a good boy.

He was like a ghost floating through everyone and everything. They didn't notice him on the streets, with his long hair hanging in his face, hiding his scars and the things people told him that he did.

But he didn't do any of that.

He was a good boy after all.

A good boy.

But he still never spoke.

Ever ever.

Not even when spoken to.

He didn't like it.

He never did.

And so it went on for years, until he met Jamia.

He was walking down the street, watching her walk on the other side of the road with these men not far behind. Frank stayed away, but kept a close eye. She was pretty, and bad things don't happen to pretty girls. The men pushed her into an alley and Frank stopped in his tracks, hearing her scream before he bolted across the road and into the alley, whistling loudly.

The sound echoed through the alley and the men stopped in the tracks, looking at Frank with poignant faces before they burst into a fit of raucous laughter.

Frank grabbed a nearby tire iron and glared at them both, but they just ignored him and continued to push her around, grabbing her clothes and tearing them. Frank stood there, his head tilted as the one began to pull his jeans down, the other holding Jamia still. Frank launched forward, smacking one right at the back of the skull, a loud crack echoed louder than the whistle. The older male crumbled to the floor and Frank stared up at the other, who let Jamia fall to the floor and tried to run. Frank spun low and connected the iron with his leg before continuously smashing his face with the iron, blood spattering everywhere around him in a torrent as screams filled the alleyway.

Frank dropped the tire iron and looked at Jamia, who was still screaming loudly, backing away before she tripped and fell back to the ground.

"Don't hurt me!" She screamed, tears pouring. Frank frowned, turning his head and looking at her with confusion.

Jamia had scrambled up, gotten to her feet in a somewhat of a daze, her jeans back up as she scrambled for her belongings.

Frank watched her with intrigue, leaning down to pick up her keys, holding them out for her as she stood up. They met each other's gazes and Jamia snatched her keys, muttering a thank you before walking passed. Frank grabbed her arm and she shrieked in fright.

"Are.. You.. Okay?" he whispered to her and she froze, frowning.

"What do you think?" she hissed and Frank could only frown.

"I'm not.. Gonna hurt you.." he whispered back and she glanced at his hold on her arm, he instantly let go and dropped his arm back down.

"Can I go now?"

"I.." Frank turned and looked at the bodies before looking back, and Jamia was gone.

He was never found as the killer of the two men in the alleyway. But what he was found for doing was watching Jamia.

He could never take her off of his mind and spent weeks trying to find her. He eventually did, she was a waitress at the Diner she had exited that night, and Frank would follow her around, making sure she was okay and that no harm would come to her in the slightest.

And making sure that she never saw him.

Until Frank worked up the nerve to go into the diner, spotting her traying food to a table. Frank slid into a booth by himself and pulled out whatever change he had left. Not much at all.

He let out a sigh and looked up to see Jamia standing there, looking surprised to see him.

"Can I get you anything?"

"I don't have much.." Frank admitted.

"Well since you saved my life, whatever you want is on the house."

"What?"

"Free.." Jamia offered a half smile and Frank bit his lip.

"I cant do that.." he whispered.

"C'mon it's the least I could do." She gave him a genuine smile and Frank let out a sigh.

"O- Okay.." she handed him the menu and he ordered the first two things he saw, being a Dr. Pepper and a plate of nachos.

Frank glanced at her nametag, finally having a noun to put next to the most beautiful face he had ever seen.

He stayed for most of the day, waiting for her to finish her shift.

"J- J- Jamia?"

"Yes?" she asked as she picked up the empty glass and basket.

"C- C- Care to join me?" Frank gestured to the empty seat across from him and Jamia smiled again.

"I'll see you in 5."

And that was how they met, and ever since then they were inseparable, and Frank finally found the reason to talk. The reason he was able to voice his thoughts, because for once, someone actually cared to listen.


	20. Chapter 19- The Bittersweet Truth is Better Than the Sweetest Lie.

Chapter 19

"G- Gerard?" Frank called out that night, sitting up in his small bed, his body run with a cold sweat as he panted, only just waking up from a nightmare that involved his family yet again.

"Y- Master?" Gerard asked, holding a candle as he peered into Frank's room, his hair matted with the motions of slumber, "What's wrong?"

"Wh.. I forgot where I was for a sec.. I remembered you somehow." Frank ran a hand through his short hair and looked at Gerard, who had walked into the room now in the vest he had on under his jumpsuit and a pair of short linen shorts that Frank had assumed he had fashioned out of one of the jumpsuits, sitting on the floor beside Frank's bed.

"What's wrong?" Gerard asked, setting the candle down on the ground beside him gingerly and looked up at his master with avid attention.

Frank stared at the candle and felt a twinge fall down his spine and his fists clenched. He took in a breath, knowing full well that he could at least slightly control what would happen net and did his best to try and stop it. He tore his eyes from the candle and looked down at Gerard with a small frown before he lay back down and stared up at the cold stone ceiling.

"I just... Nightmares."

"Master?"

"Frank."

"No." Gerard said defiantly and Frank scowled quietly, "No offense but, I never got to ask this..."

"Ask away, kid."

"You said you don't remember what you did to all those people.." Gerard began, biting on his bottom lip nervously.

"I did say that."

"I just don't understand that."

"There are a lot of things that no one understands in life." Frank replied cryptically and Gerard's frown only deepened, "How did you end up here, Gerard?"

"End up...?" he frowned, "How so?"

"Well I mean I massacred a couple people and I can imagine all of the other people in here have done something similar, fighters I mean. So I figured that the healers, because they don't get to fight, aren't as bad a criminal or whatever."

"O- Oh.. No." Gerard said, crossing his legs over.

"How does it work then?"

"Well there aren't that many healers. Healers are split up only amongst those who seem worthy."

"And me?" Frank scoffed.

"Master.. Sir. As much as you don't seem to realise, and what the other fighters wont see judging by your... Uh."

"Height?" Frank offered up and Gerard tried to hide a smirk.

"That."

"Yes?"

"Well you have that to your advantage."

"Explain."

"Fighters aren't allowed to watch other fighters fight. Otherwise they learn everyone's moves and weaknesses and it isn't a fair fight."

"Right."

"So every one of your opponents will see a short, normal looking man. And you can use that to your advantage when you.. Well, kick their butt."

Frank snorted at the usage of the word "butt".

"Well I suppose, if I make it through the first fight." Frank fell back onto his wafer thin pillow, his stomach churning with worry.

"I believe in you." Gerard said softly.

"Kid?"

"Sir?"

"So who watches these fights?"

"Well I do, and the other healer."

"Wait I thought you said-?"

"Specific fighters get assigned their own personal healer, who only works for them. The other fighters get treated by a communal healer that's always in the fighting ring."

"Oh... Right." Frank frowned, "Go on."

"With?"

"Who watches?"

"Oh yes," Gerard shifted, "Well me if you're fighting, the other healer. Leo and his assistant Ray. And then the higher up fighters, people you wont get to fight. The highest two ranked levels don't get fought by many, some remain here, remember? One a year and that sort so there are spectators but no one that'd be able to use it against you."

"What if they watch me fight and then go and rat to someone in my level about what I do?"

"Not possible."

"Why?"

"Levels are always, always separated. Never in contact with each other."

"That's.."

"A relief to you." Gerard said with an air of finality that Frank knew not to question."

"Okay so how does a healer end up here?"

"Well that's sort of... It's not a nice thing to explain."

"Oh?" Frank looked down at the kid again, "You don't have to..?"

"It's just. Remember I said earlier that when you win your first fight you can pick a lover of your choice?"

"Yes?" Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Well sometimes... Y'know, accidents happen. And one of the women end up pregnant and they keep the child and once its born the woman looks after it until its old enough to start training as a healer and by that time she's too old to go back to what she did so..."

"They kill them?" Frank asked, a horrible churning in his stomach.

"Yes, sir."

"So that's why there's not too many of you?"

"Yes, sir." Gerard cleared his throat, "My brother and I."

"You have a brother?"

"Had.."

"Oh- I'm..."

"It's okay." Gerard interrupted and Frank shut his mouth, knowing all about it.

They remained in comfortable silence for ages as Frank took everything in that the kid had said. It had taken so long that when he turned back to look at his healer, he found him laying on the ground, curled up and asleep.

Frank let out a sigh and sat up on the bed, contemplating what to do.

He didn't want to leave Gerard on the floor, god knows it was cold enough that he'd no doubt end up with a cold.

Frank couldn't wait until he was in a higher rank that had heated flooring. And an actual bed.

He climbed over Gerard and looked down at him before he bent down, sliding his hands under Gerard's skinny frame and carefully picked him up.

Gerard's eyes fluttered open and a frown immediately formed, "Wh-?"

"Shush, I just didn't want you to sleep on the floor." Frank whispered, walking back into Gerard's tiny pantry-sized bedroom and lay him down on the bed carefully. He tucked the scratchy blanket over Gerard, who gave him a bleary, thankful glance before he fell asleep again.

Frank padded back over to his bedroom and climbed back in, looking over at the candle, feeling his heartbeat increase in pace. He felt his jaw clench before he sucked in a large breath and blew out, extinguishing the candle and plummeting himself into darkness before anything else could happen.

He was glad he could control whatever this was. Barely, that is, but it was enough to stop it long enough to extinguish the flame. Bearing in mind it was something extinguishable.

Not, y'know, a field fire or even a fireplace. Candles and torches he could perhaps still control.

And he planned on working on it.

Frank lay, staring up at the ceiling when he could feel the weirdest sensation in his stomach, a heated coiling that he remembered.

He let out a groan, frowning at the sudden arousal that was way out of line and completely surprising.

Where in god's name?

Perhaps it had been because of forcing the other animalistic, rage-filled part of him down back inside of his core, this was the outcome, the only other way of releasing the fuel in his system.

Just wonderful.

Frank bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as the pressured heat was making the tingling grow. He squeezed his legs shut, hoping it would go as he turned over, onto his stomach.

He let out a groan into his thin pillow as the mattress pressed his erection against the skin of his stomach. He shuddered, experimentally rolling his hips down. He swore internally at the sudden shooting pleasure riddled his nerves.

To be honest the last time he had had sex was with Lindsey, and even if it wasn't that long ago, fuck knows he didn't even get to remember it. Or sex with Jamia- Alice?

It was Alice, wasn't it?

Frank frowned to himself, the haze between reality and mental capacity was blurred and confusing for him still.

He thought back, trying to think of the last time he had had sex that he actually remembered.

Rather unfortunately for him, to add, was with three hyperactive children, sex with his wife had also grown scarce, especially with a bed full of dogs to boot.

If he had to guess, it was round about two-three weeks at best.

Fuck it.

He deserved this.

Well, he'd prefer not to go it alone in a cold room in a foreign bed with a kid in the next room but he certainly wasn't going to get any sleep with a boner that seemed almost permanent and painful by now.

He slid his hips back down against the mattress, the scratching of his linen pants pulled at his skin and he bit his lip, stifling the noises. Frank slid a hand below him and into his jumpsuit, palming at his dick as he rolled his hips down quicker.

As much as he fucking needed the feeling, as much as he relished in how fucking good it felt he just wanted it over with this time, wanting that sweet release so that he could just get it over with.

He wrapped his fingers around himself and dug the heel of his palm against his erection, his hips stuttering as he let out a groan, his thighs and hips tensing up to an ache in his muscles.

The coil of pressure was tightening knots in his stomach tenfold, the heat was crawling slowly under his skin was making it feel too tight, like it was going to explode with the strain.

He was panting now, his lungs not being able to suck in oxygen, not enough oxygen was in the room as he buried his face tighter. Rank could quite figure out what was egging on his raw sprint for release, no discernible mental image. Right now he couldn't give a shit about fantasising about some girls tits or ass right now. All he wanted was to feel mush that occupied his skull but not his blood flow starting to grow fuzzy.

His hips were grinding, precome running down the inner of his wrist as he jerked his dick against his palm, his fingertips pressing against his balls.

He cursed softly as his muscles tightened even more, an almost cramp setting in on the side of his hip as he tried to push himself even quicker when he felt the build-up reach its climax, the sudden burst of pleasure caught him off guard and his hips jerked back as he let out a rather loud moan.

He came hard, thrusting his hips back and forth, riding out his orgasm as he body trembled and shook, his muscles suddenly going lax as his skin thrummed and his heart drummed against his ribcage.

He immediately felt exhausted, his eyes not even opening as he pulled his hand from his pants, wiping his forearm on the mattress as his ears rang slightly with the blood returning to his head.

He was on the cusp of consciousness when he heard a tiny whimper from somewhere in his near proximity but he was way too tired to care and most likely wouldn't even remember by tomorrow.


	21. Chapter 20- What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire.

Chapter 20

Frank woke up the next morning with something, or someone, shaking him lightly. He let out a groan and turned onto his side, opening a bleary eye to see Gerard standing above him.

"Whoa.." he croaked, turning over in the bed to see Gerard holding a tray of food, "That mine?"

"If you're hungry, sir."

"I am pretty hungry.." Frank sat up and Gerard placed the tray on his lap.

Wow, Frank thought to himself, that's a nice breakfast.

Sarcasm of course.

He stared down at the pitcher of water and a simple egg on some soggy toast. He gave Gerard a small, thankful smile and picked the egg on toast, taking a bite. He was grateful for the fact that it was still warm to say the least.

It tasted somewhat horrific but either way, it was food.

"So," Frank said as he swallowed, "What's on the agenda today?"

"Today you're gonna be running some drills."

"Drills?"

"Yeah, fitness.." Gerard smiled and Frank pulled a face, scrunching up his nose.

"IS that debatable?"

"Not really, its all mapped out on a schedule. They fit in a slot for everyone to work out, each level having their own room and that sort of thing."

"Right." Frank took a large gulp of water before downing the rest of the glass. He set out down with a loud gasp and Gerard set the tray down, "So what kind of drills?"

"You'll see." Gerard smiled and got up, looking at Frank, "Ready when you are, sir."

"Eh." Frank pulled the blanket off and stood up, stretching and taking in a breath. It was when he sucked in his stomach that his jumpsuit pants fell from his hips.

Gerard sputtered softly, looking away as his ears and face went red. Frank cursed, pulling his pants back up and pulled the rest of it up from his hips, sliding his arms through the sleeves and zipping it up a bit.

"Lead the way, kiddo." Frank said with a breath Gerard turned, unlocking the gate that led to Frank's room that he had never noticed before. It really was like a prison.

Frank walked out after Gerard, following behind him down the stone passageway. Frank chose this opportunity to look around again. They walked passed other rooms with celled gates that matched his own. He was glad it was day time, the lights on the building were on and there was no need for candles. The stone ground was freezing, matching the cobbled walls and the stone everything else.

The enormous middle of the building was still hollow, the wiring around it was thick and almost an inch thick, wrapped around itself.

They stopped outside of a room and Gerard held the door open, letting Frank inside. He walked down a narrow passageway before it opened up into a surprisingly massive hallway of stone. It had a huge ring in the middle, a boxing ring of sorts, on the side there were a row of punching bags that varied in size and a kickbag on a spring on the ground. On the other side were a set of lifting weights and a set of weights on a rack. There was even a treadmill attached to a lot of wires and a monitor. On the far back end behind the ring there was a set of stairs and next to it a set of ropes with rings on the end.

The stone floor was covered with a blue training mat that covered at least most of the floor.

"This is.. Well.."

"Nice, hmm?"

"Surprisingly." Frank nodded when he looked at Gerard, who picked up a pair of black shorts and threw them at Frank, who looked at them with a raised eye.

"They're for you to wear when you practice." Gerard said simply and Frank nodded, pulling his jumpsuit on and pulling on the shorts, snapping the elastic lightly.

"Also..." Gerard took Frank's hands and opened a roll of tape as he began taping up Frank's hands with an almost inhuman speed and precision.

"You do this a lot?"

"I'm used to doing it with all my previous masters." Gerard said as he bit the tape off and started on the other hand.

Once he had finished his hands he offered Frank to sit down on the bench behind him and he did, perching himself on the bench as Gerard dropped to his haunches and grabbed Frank's foot, taping it up like the hands, wrapping it over the sole of his foot and over the bridge a couple times.

"Why?"

"So you don't hurt yourself and so you don't slip. You don't have shoes so." Gerard said as he taped the other foot.

"Oh... Right." Frank muttered when he stood up.

"So," Gerard said, standing up, "Have you ever run drills?"

"I didn't even do sports in school." Frank whispered, chuckling.

"Oh god, okay." Gerard sighed, "And, then how did you kill all those people?"

"Uh.." Frank whispered quietly, "I don't want to do that."

"Why?"

"Because when I killed all those people I didn't spare anyone in the room."

"But?"

"Look, its different."

"Explain. Please." Gerard offered.

"Well I didn't really kill them but I didn't."

"How?"

"It was like I was under a spell, this sort of trigger in my head and I flip into this... thing. That is what killed all those people, that side of me was able to lift an entire massive full pot of oatmeal and throw clear across the room. I could jump up into the rafters of a double height room ceiling and run across them like a cat."

"Wow."

"Exactly... But then there's me. I'm a fucking banker, Gerard. I sit at a desk and handle paperwork and eat salads all day." Frank sighed, "I never ran more than a mile in my life and the only weight I ever had to lift was my kids at times."

"There's a contrast and a half." Gerard whispered and Frank nodded.

"So why don't you do the switch?"

"Because I'm still working on controlling it and I can't and I don't want to massacre you."

"You wont."

"And how do you know that?" Frank scoffed.

"Just do." Gerard said with a nod, "Please try the drills."

"Fine. I'll do what I can but I need your help."

"How?"

"As far as I know, this whole thing is as triggered by fire."

"Yes?"

"And I don't know how to stop it."

"Oh..."

"Let me just try and do it myself." Frank sighed, "Its not gonna end well..."

"Let's just see what we're working with here, hmm?" Gerard offered Frank a small smile which he tried to reciprocate but failed.

"Okay so maybe you should do some laps, hm?" Gerard offered, "See how many you can do around the ring?"

Frank let out a groan and Gerard gestured out when Frank took off, starting up slowly, keeping his pace. He felt every muscle in his body begin to protest and he hadn't even run a full lap.

He could hear the door of the gym open and close and he noticed a man standing next to Gerard, he paused, panting slightly when he took in the guy he had never seen before.

They both turned to look at Frank and the taller guy smirked.

"Frank?" Gerard called and Frank hopped over, "This is Bert, he's going to be your trainer for these sessions."

Frank looked at the guy who was just an inch taller than he was, his bright, sunken eyes and his wide smile. His hair was shaved on the sides except for a bit on the top of his head that was a mousy colour. His arms were covered in tattoos and his muscles were impressive, but not overly massive.

Frank's brain spiked with jealousy but he pushed it down, awkwardly glancing at the growing bit of chub on his own body.

Bert smiled widely, shaking Frank's hand, "So you're the guy who massacred a hundred or so people."

"I am.." Frank chuckled, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Not what I was expecting," Bert chuckled.

"A lot of people are saying that." Frank nodded.

"Well then," Bert looked over his new training killer, "Lets see what you got."

"I aint got much. Although I used to be able to do a chin up at age 15. Well sort of. Okay no, I couldn't lift myself up but I once ran a football field without vomiting."

"Marvelous." Bert chuckled and looked at Gerard, "You're going to have your work cut out for you with this one. And you thought Adam was bad."

Gerard smiled warmly and looked at Frank, "You'll do fine."

Frank scoffed, "So now what?"

"Run some laps, I'm sure Gerard had already started you with that." Bert asked and Frank nodded, "How many did you get?"

"A half."

"You're bright red in the face." Bert frowned and Frank cleared his throat awkwardly,

"I'm.. I'm not very fit."

"You're like a sloth."

"Rude.." Frank scowled and Bert let out a chuckle.

"Just go. Before I spray you with a hose." Bert nodded to the massive fire hose-looking thing in the corner and Frank swallowed before he turned and continued running.

He frowned, trying to keep his breathing even as his feet pushed him forward, padding on the blue mat. Frank hadn't even started counting laps, his brain concentrating on not passing out as he panted, pushing himself around the ring as he began to sweat profusely, his face red hot.

"Go on!" Bert yelled, "You can do at least five!"

"How- How many have I done?!" Frank yelled as he rounded another corner.

"Three!" Bert yelled back, laughing slightly and Frank cursed, coming to a halt as he doubled over, panting and wiping the sweat off of his face with the back of his taped hand.

Bert walked over calmly and helped Frank into a standing position, smiling slightly with a hint of laughter in his eyes.

"You'll get there." He said reassuringly and Frank nodded, unable to speak for fear of projectile vomiting.

"If I get anywhere after this, it'll be a miracle." Frank panted, "C- Cant feel my feet."

"Sit down." Bert said simply and looked at Gerard, who rushed over and handed Frank a bottle of water, which he snatched gratefully and began downing the contents hungrily, running a hand through his sweaty fringe and pushing it back, "Not too much, or you will chunder. Water fills you up and you'll chuck if you have to run again."

Frank broke away from the bottle with a loud exhale and looked up at Bert incredulously, "What do you fucking mean by 'again'?"

"You didn't think this was it, did you?" Bert laughed and Gerard smirked slightly at his side, "C'mon now this isn't gym class. You better run, Forrest, run."

Frank scowled darkly and got up, feeling his calves ache, "Can't I try something else?"

"Like?"

"I really want to try that kickstand?" Frank replied, eyeing the bag on the spring in the corner he had been dying to try ever since he saw it.

Bert gestured a silent hand to the kickbag before he looked at Gerard to follow Frank with a large smirk on his lips. Frank walked over carefully and reached out, poking it with a finger.

"Know how to use it?" Gerard asked out and Frank bit his lip, nodding before it turned into a tentative head shake.

Gerard pushed Frank away and stood in front of the stand, bending his arms to his ribs when he jumped from foot to foot lightly and in a flash he brought his leg up and gave a solid kick to the bag, with it flying to the side and bouncing back when Gerard kicked it sideways again, his body turned away from it when he spun around and punched it in the opposite direction with an impressive blow. He stood back and looked at Frank with a short smile.

Frank stared at Gerard with wide eyes, swallowing shortly as the kickbag swung slightly from side to side, almost looking dazed.

"Where the fuck did that come from?"

"Every Healer needs to know how to defend themselves at least. Working here isn't a picnic, Frank."

"I know but.. I mean. How did that even come from you? You're a fucking beanpole. You look like a strong gust of wind can sweep you away."

Gerard smiled and folded his arm, gesturing again silently to the kickbag. Frank squared himself up a bit and stood on his toes, jumping a bit when he aimed a kick at the heavy bag.

It was more sturdy than he expected and his foot lurched back a bit, the bag swaying lightly when Frank huffed.

"Try the other foot, sometimes that happens with the leg you aren't strongest with." Gerard offered and Frank scowled.

"That was my stronger leg."

"O- Oh.." Gerard giggled softly and Frank frowned angrily again and aimed another kick, bring his leg up and kicking it backwards instead of sideways. The bag flew back and Frank grinned, turning and Gerard was about to open his mouth when Frank was hit in the back by a stinging weight and he flew forward, landing on his front and winding himself.

Bert let out a loud cackle and Frank lay there, his chest and stomach burning from the skid he had done over the mat. Gerard slowly bent down and rolled him over.

"Don't turn your back on the equipment, Frank."

Frank let out a wheeze, staring up at Gerard, who looked on the edge of laughter as he held out a hand to let Frank up.

Bert sauntered over with a wide smile on his face as Frank got up, readjusting his black vest before looking at him.

"How did you kill a hundred and twenty people is beyond me. I mean sure of you poisoned them or shot them, yeah. But you used your hands and shit. I don't see it. Do you have, like, a strong twin out there somewhere and they caught the wrong guy?"

Frank felt anger bubble up in his stomach but he pushed it down, knowing Bert was here to help him, but he obviously had no filter and he didn't know what was up with Frank in the first place.

"I think..." Gerard bit his lip, "I think we should take him to see Andy."

"You think so?" Bert asked, frowning.

"Well yeah, the thing with Frank is, is he has this thing that's part of his brain that switches on and that's how he kills. Like another side to him."

"Explains a lot." Bert nodded, eyeing Frank, who was very confused.

"So, I mean... We should give this... Switch a trial run and if it's anything we should take him to see Andy."

"Andy?" Frank asked the two of them and Bert looked at him.

"Nothing you should worry your pretty little head over, Frankie-boy. All in good time."

"I worry..." Frank replied.

"How much control do you have over this thing?" Bert asked and Frank shook his head.

"Well when I was in the nuthouse I was able to hold off killing these doctors enough to talk to them for a while before I tore into them."

"And you remember this?"

"Vaguely. In the beginning I didn't and the more it happened, the more I tend to remember, not completely though."

"I see.." Bert said, his voice trailing off, "Well lets see then, if you're able to focus on the trial drills and not us, take your energy out on it instead, I'm sure we'll survive, all else fails we spot you."

"Spot me?" Frank frowned.

"Spotting is sort of like when you dart an animal. Strong stuff that'll knock an elephant off its toes."

"That's reassuring." Frank said with a snort.

"It does no damage, just knocks you out and when you wake up you drink about two gallons of water but you'll be fine."

"Alright... Fine." Frank said with a sigh, eyeing them both.

"Good." Bert replied and looked between him and Gerard, "How do we start up this mini killing machine."

"Fire." Gerard and Frank said in unison and Bert raised an eyebrow.

"Alright then." He walked off into a small room, leaving Gerard and Frank alone.

They eyed each other when Gerard spoke up, "You're going to do this."

"I can try." Frank shrugged.

"I'm kind of excited to see it." Gerard said honestly when Bert returned.

"This is for you." Bert handed Frank a mask. It was black with straps, it looked like a hybrid of a ventilation mask and the thing Bane wore in Batman.

"This is?"

"It controls your breathing and lets you breathe properly under great stress." Bert said and Frank slipped it on, looking between them and Gerard went pink.

"Well why don't you and I try out a bit of fighting afterwards?" Bert said with a smirk and Frank's eyes widened.

"Are you-?"

"I know what I'm doing." Bert smiled, "And I can always spot you."

"Fucking fine." Frank shrugged, the mask hanging around his neck for now, "I'm gonna start with some laps like earlier."

"Good choice." Bert nodded, "Okay, laps and then do me some skipping." Bert nodded to the table with some ropes, "Then try the punching bags, kickbag, laps and then do some pushups and whatever you feel like."

"And then I kick your ass?" Frank offered and Bert raised an eyebrow.

"We'll see." Bert said, "Mask on, big boy."

Frank pulled the mask up on over his mouth and nose and took a breath. Bert pulled a lighter out of his shorts and opened it, flicking it open and thrust the lighter closer to Frank's face.


End file.
